We Are All Made of Stars
by J. Riot
Summary: Callia Antilles is in love with a young Boba Fett, but he is more interested in avenging his father's death than settling down.
1. Chapter One

We Are All Made of Stars

Part I

_" I have always been faithful to you. If faithful means the experience against which everything else has been measured."_ - Anita Shreve 

It takes me a moment before I can work up the nerve to step back into the cave that had once been my home – our home. Though it is daytime, the inside is dark and uninviting. None of us have returned for years, and our old belongings are overturned, dusty and rusted. I step into the darkness, wrap my arms around myself against the cold, and shut my eyes.

           I sit on our old bed, near the cave's entrance, and look out at the rocky landscape of what has been the closest I've had to a home planet in my lifetime. All the events of our life seem to have gravitated back to this place: his father's death, the birth of our son, and the ultimate dissolution of our makeshift family at the hands of his obsessive need for revenge.

          On the eve of what is rumored to the be decisive battle for the Rebellion, I'm not sure what has motivated me to return this place. My hands have not stopped trembling since my son wrote to me, telling me that he will be taking part in this last-ditch strike against the Empire. I wish that it could somehow be me flying against them instead of him, but I was never as brave as he is, and never so moved by as cause as he has been for the Rebellion.

          Somehow it seems right to be on Geonosis on this fateful day, though I feel restless as I gaze around the cave and let the memories flood back to me. What am I doing here? I wonder, sitting like an aimless fool while my son could be dying? In the midst of an emotional surge I stand, though I'm not quite sure where I feel that I should be going instead. The Rebellion's plans are so secret that I had to read through code in my son's letter just to determine that an important battle for freedom would be taking place in the next days – there was no indication of where it would happen. 

          When I turn toward the mouth of the cave, something on the horizon catches my eye. A man, walking toward the cave with a large bundle in his arms. I drop back into the darkness, and watch him approach, and as he does I see that his bundle is in fact another man, draped lifeless across his arms, his head hanging back, his armor seared and ruined.

          After everything: after all of the lies, hurt and betrayal, after all of the things said that can never be taken back, it still drops me to my knees in sorrow when I see who the stranger is carrying. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and my hands cover my face when I realize what has drawn me back to this planet where his father is buried under the sand. 

I met Boba Fett when we were both orphans on Corinth, the meadowy moon of Geonosis. I had been without a place in the world since birth, but he was brought in anew to our world of unwanted offspring at age ten, and didn't adjust easily to the orphanage's rules. He told boastful tales about his father, a warrior of some sort, who's powerful government connections would have him rescued from anonymity at any moment. These forces never came.

          Our orphanage was gray but not unfriendly - it was filled to the brim with children of every species, many whose parents, like Boba's father, had been entangled in and betrayed by the powers collecting for the coming war. It was a sad, frightened time for everyone, and we were never truly children as long as we lived inside the orphanage's lonely walls. 

          I was sitting at Boba's lunch table in the dining hall the day I first truly met him. As a girl, I typically didn't associate with the boys in the home, out of both fear of the unknown and the prejudice of youth. But he was such a sad and curious figure, I couldn't resist approaching him, boy or no. He was sitting alone, as was usual - he tended to drive the other boys away with his pride.

          " Hello," I said, setting my tray down and cautiously sitting beside him. He gave me a sideways glance and returned to the business of poking boredly at his lunch.

          " This food is awful," he muttered, " How can you eat this?"

          I shrugged, determined not to be too easily put off by his attitude. " I guess I'm used to it," I said, shoveling some of the soggy vegetables into my mouth, " I've lived at the orphanage since I was born." Boba looked at me and frowned.

          " Why?" he asked, " What happened to your parents?" 

          " My mother came to the orphanage because she was sick and pregnant with me," I explained, surprised that I could tell him this so easily, " She didn't have any money to go to a hospital, but the people here took care of her until she gave birth to me and died."

He waited for a moment, feigning disinterest, and then: " Your father, though? Where was he?"

          " I don't know," I said, " She didn't say anything about my father. All I know is what the people here know."

          " Hmph," he muttered with a mean grin, " So your father might be a wookie? Or an ewok?" He laughed.

          " I doubt it," I said, maintaining my cool, " I'd be a lot hairier if that were true." Boba fought away the beginnings of a smile.

          We ate in silence for awhile, and then he offered peace.

          " Well for what its worth," he muttered in spite of himself, " I haven't got a mother."

          " Why not?" I asked. " What happened to her?" Only orphans are so unashamed with these questions.

          " I don't know," he admitted. " My father never told me. But I think - I think I might be a clone."

          " Really?" I said, suddenly interested. The new heroes of the Republic were the clones: the majestic clone army, who would save the Republic from the federations and the dark lords! " What's it like to be a clone, then?" I asked, poking his arm. He felt human enough. Boba jerked his arm away, annoyed.

          " It doesn't feel like anything," he snapped. " Clones are just like normal people. Only - they were made differently."

          I grinned wickedly - " I bet you don't even know how normal people are made," I challenged. He glowered at me.

          " Of course I do," he said, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

          " How then?" I asked, smirking.

          " Well there's a man and a woman and they -" he floundered, pursing his lips. " I'm not sure about the rest," he muttered, embarrassed.

          And so this was how I came to explain the birds and the bees to Boba Fett, who would later become one of the galaxy's most infamous Casanova bad boys. At the end of my explanation he actually looked rather perturbed by the idea.

          " I think," he said, pushing his lunch tray away, " I prefer cloning."

Boba and I grew up as good friends - and because of our situation we were rather like family by the time we were teens. We may have gone on simply like that if it weren't for the fact that - well - we were teenagers. 

          " What will you do when you're eighteen?" he asked me one day when we were on dish duty together. We had been smoking cigarillos for the past couple of years despite strict orphanage restrictions, and it never failed to land us with extra chores. " When you leave the orphanage, I mean?"

          " I don't know," I said, " I thought about becoming a pilot."

          " Like a smuggler?" he joked, and I rolled my eyes.

          " No," I said, " I don't know. Maybe I'll join the Army of the Republic. Or do they need human pilots, with all of those efficient clones they've got?" I teased.

          " How many times do I have to tell you?" Boba said, tossing me a dish and pretending to be angry, " Clones are humans, too!" I giggled. I don't think I ever really believed Boba was a clone. After all, clones were fashionable then, when they were still on the people's side, saving us from evil. I guess I always figured he was just a silly little boy dreaming of being something more. Heroes or not, clones were still something alien to me, creatures that were more akin to droids than to the very human boy I had grown up with. 

          " What about you?" I asked, almost afraid to hear his response. Boba had always been on the wild side - he was always mouthing off to our teachers, often getting in petty fist fights with the other boys. Nothing major, but enough to make me worry about the choices he was capable of making for himself.

          He was quiet for a moment after I asked, concentrating with strange intent on a dish he was drying. He laid it carefully on the stack on the counter and looked at me with eyes that were suddenly solemn. 

          " I never told you how my father died," he said, something I was quite aware of. I had never dared ask - Boba seemed to have such fond regard for his father, I didn't want to break open a dam by asking what had happened to him. I simply nodded.

          " He was murdered," he told me, looking at his hands, which gripped the counter with sudden intensity, " By a Jedi." My breath caught when he finished his sentence. The Jedi were the noblest of the galaxy's peace-keepers - if they had cause to murder Boba's father, then he must have been up to something horrible.

          " Why?" I asked timidly, " Why would a Jedi murder him?"

          " The Jedi are not the saints that everyone believes they are," Boba said quickly, anger rising in his voice, " My father was hired to protect a diplomat - a former Jedi himself - when they launched an attack on his convoy. Whatever political junk this guy was mixed up in, my father was only performing a security job. He had nothing to do with whatever plot this diplomat was involved in - but they killed him anyway, and brutally." His voice changed a bit and he stopped to clear his throat, his gaze shifting away again. " It was only a few months before I first came to the orphanage. They murdered him right in front of my eyes."

          " Oh, Boba," I said, dropping the dish I'd been holding into the sink. I dried my hands on my skirt and put my arms around him - I couldn't imagine how painful it must have been for a ten year old to see his father killed before his eyes. I had no idea that Jedi could behave this way - the order fell forever in my eyes. Foolishly, then and in the future, I did not take into account the fact that what a little boy saw that day and the truth of what had taken place were probably two very different things. But Boba was my best friend, and his sad eyes as he told me what happened had cracked my heart into pieces. As I held him to me those cracks started filling with another feeling entirely . . .  

          " So," Boba muttered into my shoulder, regaining his composure, " When I leave the orphanage I must find this Jedi, and take revenge for my father."

          " Boba, no!" I said, raising my face to look at him, to try and possibly convey how insane I thought this idea was. " You can't face this Jedi - he'll kill you, too!" 

          He shook his head, pulling away slightly, " I'm not as weak as you think I am, Calli." 

          " Its not that I think you're weak," I explained, squeezing his shoulders, which had grown to bulge with muscles after years of being punished with handiwork around the orphanage. " Its just that the Jedi fight with a technique that lay people cannot match. You have to be instructed in their school to ever hope to face them in battle!"

          " That's not true," Boba insisted, " When my father died, just afterward, hundreds of Jedi were nearly defeated by a mere droid army. The only reason this man and the others were spared is that the clones - the army that my father contributed to so greatly - saved them. If some mindless droids with blasters can nearly defeat an army of Jedi, then I'm sure I've got a chance to avenge my father."

          " But what happens if you do succeed, Boba?" I asked, " You'll be found by his comrades, or the Republic - they'll imprison you for life, or execute you!" 

          " My father faced death unafraid," Boba said, stubborn to the last, " And so will I, if I have to. And as far as prison goes - I've been in prison for the last seven years, haven't I? Never free to do what I want, when I want."

          " Boba," I said quietly, stepping away from him, " Has this felt like prison to you?" I asked with a sad chuckle.

          " Oh, don't be offended, Calli," he said with a sigh, walking to me, " You've made it much more tolerable, you know that."

          " To tell you the truth," I said, " I don't think I'll be ready to leave when the time comes." 

          Boba touched my shoulder. " Don't say that," he said, " You could be a great pilot. You could fight for the Republic and be showered with honors." I half-turned to face him.

          " But what if I do join the Republic's Army?" I said with growing distress, 

" And someday I have to chase down the ship of criminal Boba Fett who's killed a Jedi? What then, Boba?"

          " That's unlikely, Calli," he said with a scoff, turning me to face him, " And anyway," he said, smiling down at his feet, " You'd let me go, wouldn't you?"

          He looked up at me, and the feeling that I'd gotten earlier when I embraced him rose again in my stomach, climbing higher to my heart. Boba had grown into a handsome young man - not so unlike the button-nosed boy he'd been, with curly dark hair that fell to his ears, coffee-colored skin that had remained smooth and clear even through adolescence - and of course those intense brown eyes, which were begging me then for an answer, for his best friend to absolve him.

          " Of course I would let you go," I answered, and a sad feeling of certainty washed over me when his face broke into a relieved smile. " Even if it meant losing everything," I promised. 

          I will never forget this conversation, there in the kitchen of the orphanage. It was both the moment I knew I was in love with him, and the moment I realized he would leave me. 

For the next couple of weeks, I couldn't sleep at all. During the day, Boba, my friends in class, my teachers and my headmistress would all ask what was wrong with me. I was tired all the time, and Boba in particular noticed that I was acting more uneasy and nervous. I wasn't simply mulling over my new feelings for him - I was thinking about what he said, and with such seriousness, about avenging his father. I was terrified that when we turned eighteen and left the orphanage, I would lose him forever.

          I mostly kept my feelings to myself, until one day when I noticed him sparring with two of the older boys during free period. I rushed over, tired of the perennial sight of him fighting. 

          " Boba!" I shouted, " Cut it out! Headmaster Linc will see you!" He held up a hand and the boys backed off.

          " Calm down, Calli," he said, jogging over to me, " We're just practicing some moves, nothing serious."

          " Practicing some moves?" I said, disbelieving. " For what?"

          " For combat," he said, frowning and making his face serious. "Remember what I told you the other day, when we were washing dishes?"

          I sighed, " Of course I do," I said. " But, Boba -"

          " Well I'm serious about this, Calli!" he said, " I have to start working on my skills now if I have any hope of facing this Jedi."

          " Don't say it so loud," I muttered, " You didn't tell those boys about the 'master plan', did you?"

          " Of course not," he said, his brow furrowing, " You're making fun of me, aren't you? You don't think I'll really go through with this." He shook his head.

          " I had hoped not!" I said, my heart sinking.

          " You know Calli," he said, growing angry, " That just proves that for all the years we've been friends, you really don't know anything about me at all."

          I tried to protest, but he stormed off after that. As much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to think he was right. Boba was changing quickly, then - hardening himself for the task he was determined to accomplish. It was just my luck that I had begun falling in love with him the moment he decided to become a rock-hard deliverer of vengeance.

          But I like to think, as bad as things would eventually get, because of me and all that happened afterward, Boba would never be entirely made of stone. I would later meet a woman who would tell me that the infamous Boba Fett had set her free when he learned that she was pregnant, despite her bounty and his reputation.

          He always had a weakness for the ladies.

And, not so shockingly given his looks and demeanor, they'd always had a weakness for him. Out of all of the planets and star systems I've visited in my lifetime, and especially during the fight against the Empire, there was never a place where I was unable to find some woman who could brag about a night with the famous bounty hunter that she'd never forget. While most of this was just boasting, it spoke of his reputation - women wanted him, because he was dangerous and mysterious. It was so prevalent throughout his lifetime, that despite everything I felt for him, I couldn't be jealous - the phenomenon was so huge, his dealings with other women seemed like the stuff of myth. 

          In our last year of school, I wasn't the only girl at the orphanage who had begun to notice Boba's evolution from boy to man. He became the subject of notes passed in class, of giggling pow-wows late at night in the girl's dormitory. My own popularity increased as I was automatically associated with Boba - "that girl he hung around with." No one ever mistook me for his girlfriend - not because I was particularly unattractive - I was growing into my looks as well, my straw-like blonde hair became smoother, my freckled cheeks milkier - but because I seemed too mild for the reckless Boba. This childish observation was actually an absolute truth - it was the reason Boba and I never became partners in crime; it was the reason I had to give him up to the wind. 

This was before I'd discovered the phenomenal effect my friend had on women, and before I'd come to terms with it - I was not happy about the new attention he was getting from the opposite sex. Boba himself was rarely distracted by it - he had his mind on other things, then. 

          For awhile we avoided each other - he was upset that I wouldn't accept what he thought was the obvious path for his life: revenge. I was trying to save myself the pain of becoming too attached to him before he ran off to the four corners of the universe in search of his Jedi nemesis. But it was already much too late for that. Staying away from him only made me long for him more - I'd see him talking to a girl in the commons and burn with jealousy at her mere proximity to him. 

          One night I had an unsettling dream about him - he was a little boy again, and he was standing on a platform in the pouring rain. I started to walk toward him, when from out of nowhere a faceless Jedi landed between us and drew his lightsaber. Its deadly hum sent chills down my spine as he prepared to strike at my Boba with it.

          " Boba, lookout!" I screamed in panic, but he couldn't hear me. Just as the Jedi lowered the blade in a flash, my eyes snapped open and he was sitting before me - the nearly adult Boba of the present.

          " Boba!" I cried, and without thinking of our argument and ongoing standoff, I reached for him and grabbed him up in my arms, squeezing his shoulders tightly. My heart was pounding ferociously - the dream still felt real, and I wondered deliriously if Boba was an apparition in my arms. When he returned my embrace, I knew he was real.

          " Calli," he whispered, close to my ear. " Not so loud, okay?" 

          " But," I said in a hushed voice, breathing him in, unwilling to let go, " I had a nightmare about you."

          " Oh no," he said, laughing under his breath, " What did I do?"

" It wasn't anything you did," I whispered as he loosened his grip on me and sat back, " But never mind that - what are you doing in here? Headmistress will have your head."

          His face turned serious. " I came to make up with you," he told me, " Our first fight in seven years of friendship." He smiled, " Well," he said, " I'm tired of it now. You?"

          " Yes," I said, " But I stand by what I said - I wish you would let what happened go. Your father wouldn't want you to throw your life away for his memory."

          He smirked, that wicked grin that made me - and, yes, probably every other damsel in the known universe - shudder. " You didn't know my father," he said, " And so, go on wishing. There's something I want to show you."

          He held my hand as we crept out of the dormitory, past the headmistress's sleeping quarters and all her creaking boards. I felt perfectly safe with Boba's hand in mine - even if it was more a gesture of guidance through the dark than of affection. We made it to the main hall and began running toward the front doors, our bare feet padding soundlessly on the wooden floors. Boba was a pro at deactivating the security system - we pushed open the heavy front doors without tripping the alarms.

          When we were free of the quiet, sleeping orphanage we whooped and hollered, running down the dark, rolling hills under the stars. Looking back, even now, I swear it felt like flying. 

          " Where are we going?" I shouted over the night wind across the prairie, laughing. 

          " There's a place up ahead," Boba called back to me. " I found it the other night when I was wandering around."

          Boba wandering the hills at night alone - it didn't surprise me at all. He was already becoming a loner in those days; he even went on adventures without his trusty sidekick. We made our way up a steep, crested hill in the middle of the plains - it was far away from the orphanage, and, looking back at our makeshift home, I wondered how we'd run such a distance in what seemed like a very short time.

          At the top of the hill, while we were catching our breath, Boba pointed at the stars. I followed his gaze, and we both stared up at them. I couldn't pay attention to them for long - they were just stars, gas giants. I looked back at Boba. His gaze was transfixed on the sky, his expression almost somber. 

          " Why did you bring me here?" I asked, and he looked back at me.

          " I thought it was a nice view," he said, ever untouched, turning his face back to the heavens.

           " Well, thank you," I said, my breathing returning to nearly normal, " It is." I was staring at his feet.

          " Calli," he said, " Did I ever tell you about the planet I grew up on?"

          " Some things," I said, " You told me it was always raining, and that they mass-produced the Republic's clone army there. Sounds . . . like a sad place for a little boy."

          He shook his head. " It wasn't a sad place at all. My father and I were happy there - we were treated like kings by the Kaminoans."

          " The who?"  

          " The race of people who were in charge of the cloning on Kamino," he explained, " They were - these very beautiful, graceful aliens. Very thin with big, iridescent eyes." He looked again at the sky. " They were a very soft-spoken, neutral race. Everything in our compound was kept meticulously clean - it was a peaceful place," he told me, his voice sad, nostalgic. " Like an opposite reaction to the chaotic atmosphere on the planet, everything inside the compounds was quiet and orderly. There were never any surprises - before the Jedi came."

           " I thought you said the Jedi that killed your father ambushed him while he was on duty?" I said, confused.

          " He did, but another arrived on Kamino before this," Boba explained. 

" He started poking around in our compound, our living quarters. As we were leaving for Geonosis - the planet where the diplomat who had hired my father was staying - this Jedi drew his lightsaber and attacked our ship without warning. My father nearly died, but we managed to escape."

          " I don't understand," I said, shaking my head, " Why a Jedi would do something like that."

          " People need to get it through their heads," Boba said, defensive, " That the Jedi as an objective keeper of the peace is a myth. They have their own political agenda, and just like the bounty hunters they think they are so above, they'll stop at nothing to achieve it." It took a moment for what he said to click.

          " Your father was a bounty hunter?" I said, perhaps revealing too much about what I thought of bounty hunters in my tone. Boba narrowed his eyes.

          " His job had its brutal moments, but he was no worse than the Jedi you so admire," he spat, and I grabbed his arm as he began to turn away from me.

          " Boba!" I said, yanking him back to face me, " Stop putting words in my mouth! I'm just a penniless orphan who's never been off the grounds of this property - I'll take your experience outside of this place for what its worth, but I have my own uneducated prejudices, I'll admit. I'm still not the kind of person who decides someone's worth based on their - trade. Don't get so offended!"

          He sighed. " I'm just afraid of letting him down," he said, his eyes skyward again, " My father was always there for me, and he trusted me with everything - flying the ship, going along on all of his missions - he was a great man who simply got mixed up in the wrong fight, and I don't want him to be remembered as a villain."

          I nodded and touched Boba's back, not protesting for his sake, though inwardly I doubted that a bounty hunter who had managed to get two Jedis after him and who took his young son along on missions to off his marks was a 'great man'. But there was no touching Boba's father on his pedestal, high as Corusaunt's tallest building and strong as one hundred charging Banthas. 

          We sat together on the grass for awhile before he spoke again. Leaning against the weight of each other's backs as we had done so many times while working on our lessons in the courtyard. When Boba spoke I could feel the low tremble of his voice against my back. 

          " Anyway, the place I grew up," he said, his tone softer, " The Kaminoans, they had a religion based on the stars. Dad always sort of scoffed at it - he wasn't the kind of guy who took up with religion - but I was young and it was kind of dear to me. The sky on Kamino was always cloudy, we never saw the stars. But when a Kaminoan was rewarded with a trip to space, it was like a holy pilgrimage. They saw the stars so rarely, they were like gods to them. They thought that all living things were made of stars, and that when they died their soul would take its place back in the cosmos." He turned as best he could against my back to look me.

          " I asked my babysitter Taun We one day, when I was a bit older and understood what was going on, if I was my father's child, or just another clone," he continued, "First, she told me that I was special, clone or not, and that made me believe that my suspicions about my creation were probably true. But then she looked at me, and smiled, and told me, 'Boba, it doesn't matter. We all came from the same place - clones, humans, Kaminoans. We are all made of stars'." He smiled to himself. 

          I leaned my head back onto his shoulder, my face so close to his that I could feel his warm breath. It was kind of frightening, Boba's mouth so close to mine. The same frightening feeling that other women would worship him for - to them it would be like sweet poison. For me it was the simple fear that I might realize my feelings for a man I could never really have.

          " We are all made of stars," he said again, his lips casually brushing my ear. 

" I believed her." 

          " And now?" I asked, not willing to say much, for fear of a shake in my voice. 

          " I don't know," he admitted, turning again, his curls tickling the side of my face as he moved, " Sometimes I think my father was right, that life is just day-to-day, that there is no greater meaning or eternal resting place."

          " Boba, I'm sleepy," I said, not wanting to get into another debate about his father's brilliant life philosophies.

          " Do you want to go back?" he asked, and I detected what I was flattered to interpret as a hint of hurt in his voice.

          " I don't know," I said, sitting up and turning toward him. He gave me his sad eyes for a moment before returning to the usual detached stare. I wanted to help him; I didn't know how I could without destroying myself.

          " Calli," he said, placing a hand on my knee, " No more nightmares, okay?"

          " I'll always worry about you," I told him.

          " Well, don't," he said, with that smile again, " It cramps my style." He poked at me jokingly and I moaned, pretending to me more tired than I was. We walked back to the orphanage, left the silent, shimmering world outside and crept back through the front doors, where Boba reactivated the security system before we snuck back up to our dorms.

          " Hey," he said, as we were parting between the boys' and girls' quarters. "I'm sorry I made you miss your beauty sleep." I half-grinned, and before I knew what I was doing, threw my arms around him. He laughed with surprise and hugged my waist, lifting me up a bit off the ground.

          " What's this?" he asked as I held onto him like a desperate lunatic. At this point I was quite tired from the walk back, and would regret my half-delirious actions in the morning.

          " Don't ever leave me, Boba," I said, feeling a bit mad, but sincere nonetheless.

          " Calli," he said scoldingly, " I won't."

          " You will," I said, pulling back. " As soon as the dawn of your eighteenth birthday you'll leave me behind for your crusade."

          He was quiet for a moment, watching me stare him down in the hall. He still had his arms on my waist.

          " Even if I do," he said, " I'll come back to you, okay?" I rolled my eyes. " I mean it!" he contested, making his face that demanded to be taken seriously. " I'll always come back to you. You're all I've got, Calli, the only one who cares about me in the entire universe. You're my home."

          He kissed my forehead, like an older brother might, and, stepping off into the darkness of the boy's dormitory, he disappeared.

          " And what if you die?" I whispered into the pitch black hallway when he was gone. I imagined myself as some old crone, probably still at the orphanage, working as the librarian, and searching hopelessly each night for Boba's Kaminoan star. His soul replaced too soon into the heavens. 

As it happened, this would not be the case - the librarian scenario, anyway. I turned eighteen two months before Boba and sent in an application to a faction of the Republic Flight Academy on Corasaunt. We were allowed to stay at the orphanage for six months after our eighteenth birthday - six months to find our place in the world before the big kiss-off. Boba was already counting the days until he was free. 

          A week before Boba's birthday, I got an official letter from the Republic. Just holding the weighty envelope made me tremble with fear - if it was a rejection, I had few other alternates - my next best chance was finding a job at a dive bar in the city's lower levels, something that didn't sound too appealing.

          Boba was in the dining hall stacking chairs when I found him - he was working double duty because of some recent mischief. 

          " Hey, Boba!" I called, jogging over to him, " It came." 

          " Oh boy," he said, wiping his brow and putting on a smile. " You haven't opened it yet?" I shook my head.

          " You open it," I said, handing him the envelope.

          " Its heavy," he said, " That's good." He tore open the seal and pulled out the stack of official government papers, unfolding them to have a look at the letter on top of the pile. His face fell, and my heart was crushed.

          " I didn't get in," I said in a sigh. He shook his head.

          " You did," he corrected, " See." He handed me the bundle, and I grabbed it and read the first line - _Congratulations, Callia Elbe Antillies_ . . .

          " I got in!" I shrieked, looking up at Boba with a monstrous grin - a huge weight lifted from my shoulders - I had a place to go, a purpose! I would finally belong to something. Boba managed a slow smile - a delayed reaction to be sure.

          " Yeah, well, I knew you'd get in," he said, turning back to his chair stacking.

          " Boba!" I said, slightly annoyed at his reaction. " Do you know what this means for me? This is security, this is a _paycheck_ - this is, this is what I wanted. Are you even listening?" I asked, feeling a bit hurt. The reason I'd come to find him was to have someone to console me if it was bad news, but also to have someone to celebrate with if the news was good.

          " Calli," he said, not looking at me, " I'm really happy for you." His voice was completely flat - I scoffed.

          " Real convincing, Boba."

          He turned to face me, " I mean it," he said, " I hope you have a great life serving the Republic." He began stacking the chairs a bit more violently. I didn't know what to say - he'd been in such a great mood for the past month, happily anticipating his birthday - this was a sudden and disturbing change. I wondered if this had anything to do with his father - the Jedi were under the Republic's command during the brawl that his father had died in. But he'd never shown any real hatred for the Republic itself before. 

          He turned around suddenly and pushed past me. " I've got to go," he muttered as he walked off, " I've got class." As he stalked off I looked back down at my letter, and the news seemed suddenly very lonely - like the promise of a lifetime in a windowless bunker. 

          " Congratulations to me," I whispered, running my fingers over the word on the letter. Tears strung my eyes and I cursed myself for being such a baby - only Boba had the power to make me cry. I hugged the letter to my chest and rocked back and forth, thinking of my new freedom and the honor of being accepted. But no one cared - not even my best friend. Such is the life of an orphan, I thought, and at this choking sobs began hiccupping from my gut. I sank to my knees and cried on the floor of the empty dining hall, wishing for the first time in awhile for my missing mother and father. 

          I felt arms sliding around my shoulders, and for a moment I thought it might be my mother's spirit. Then I smelled that familiar mixture of cheap shampoo and burnt cedar, and knew it was Boba.

          " Its okay," he whispered, squeezing me to him, " Its okay." He rested his chin on my shoulder, and I felt what I at first thought was a hysterical delusion - he was kissing my neck, just barely, cautiously, as if it might burn his lips.

          " Boba?" I said, my tone questioning. My sobs stopped and gave way to complete shock.

          " I don't want you to go," he said, holding me so tightly I could scarcely breathe. He didn't apologize for this demand, or even acknowledge that he was being selfish. He just told me what I'd suspected in only the most wishful parts of my mind: he didn't want me to go. We were both quiet for a long time - the afternoon sun blazed through the dining hall's enormous windows and made our young skin glow. 

          " If you ask me to," I said, " You know I'll choose you." He said nothing. I wanted so badly for him to tell me that he loved me - if he'd only have said those three words I could have left with him without a second thought. 

          He said nothing.

          I gave everything up for him anyway. I could blame the effect he had on women - they tended to lose their minds around him, me included - or the strong bonds that had formed between us as we grew up together as orphans. But it was just that moment, kneeling with him on the floor in a spot of sun, a yellow square of window pane. A moment when I'd needed someone to hold me and he'd been there.

          It was one of the only times he'd ever be there when I needed him. I knew this when I left the orphanage with him, when he used his inheritance money to buy us two tickets on a ship to Geonosis - I expected him to let me down, to leave me out of his life, to return to me only for selfish reasons. And still I went with him.

To Be Continued in Chapter Two

A/N: I need lots of feedback for this – I'm going to launch a comprehensive site for it in April, featuring original art and over two-hundred pages of story. I want it perfect before then, so please help me out – first of all, did you enjoy the story? Do you want to read more? Were there any issues or inconsistencies with canon? (And I do not consider ANYthing in the Extended Universe books and novels to be canon, so please refrain from referencing them in your critique.) Did anything about Boba here really rub you the wrong way as far as your own canonical interpretation of him goes? Is Calli a likeable heroine? She's a bit wimpy at the beginning of the story, because I want to show her evolution into a stronger person as she gets older and has experienced more – I don't like the Star Wars canon and fanon convention of the tough-as-nails at fourteen female lead – I find their unfaltering confidence and unflinching bravery hard to relate to. The males, meanwhile, are allowed to have fears and faults, and it makes them more interesting, complex characters, which I think is unfair. 

That said, I look forward to some useful feedback, and hope you've all enjoyed the story! There is much more to come for those who are interested.


	2. Chapter Two

The only reason Boba hadn't left the orphanage long before his eighteenth birthday was that, as his temporary executors, the officials there had been in charge of the wealth of credits he'd inherited from his father. When he was a legal adult, all of that money was his. The tickets we bought on the ship to Geonosis were first class, aboard a shiny new transport jet.

          I had never flown, not even on Corinth, so space travel was quite daunting for me at first.

          " If you hope to be a pilot someday," Boba said, squeezing my shaking hand, " You'll have to become comfortable in space."

          " I don't want you to think I regret coming with you," I said, " But what are my chances of being a pilot now?" He smiled.

          " I've got a ship," he told me, " One of the best in the galaxy."

          " How?" I asked. During that time, with all of the labor federations splitting from the Republic, it was hard to purchase a ship of any merit for personal use, no matter how rich in credits you were.

          " My father's," he said, " The _Slave 1_. Because of his lessons, I was a competent pilot by age seven. When he died I took his armor and his ship and hid them in a cave on Geonosis. I was going to live there by myself while I built up my strength to face his murderer, but a Geonosian farmer caught me stealing from his crop one night and I was arrested. I was just a child, so when they found out I had no where to go they stuck me in the orphanage. But the cave where I left the ship was well hidden - I'm counting on it to still be there."

          " His ship," I said, a cold feeling moving down my spine, " And his armor?"

          " Yes," Boba said, with a frightening glint in his eye, " The finest Mandalorian armor left in the galaxy." With Boba everything that belonged to him was always 'the finest' or 'the best' - usually according only to him. " It's the armor I will wear when I hunt down and kill this Jedi - I want him to tremble in fear, as if my father has come back from the grave for revenge, before I strike him down."

          " Boba," I said, quietly, " Do you really think you'll be able to do it? Murder someone?"

          " Calli," he said, his eyes darkening, " If you saw the way this man killed my father -" he stopped himself, his lips tensing, " If I'd had a weapon then, even at ten years old, I would have been able to do it."

          I shook my head. I wouldn't believe it for a long time - that Boba was capable of becoming a ruthless bounty hunter, infamous for his liberal disintegrations. There were parts of himself that he kept from me, for better or worse.

          " So you still know where this cave is?" I asked, changing the subject. " After all these years?" 

          He nodded. " Its not far from the Imperial Coliseum," he said, " We'll find it." He reached for my hand again. 

          " Its okay," I said, " I'm not scared anymore." He shrugged, and let go of my hand, embarrassed. My cheeks burned red, too - what were we doing? We were off to start a life together, and we'd never even kissed each other. We sat in awkward silence for a moment, me turning my eyes to the window beside my seat. Outside the stars burned past, the Kaminoan souls watching over their orphan.

          " What will we do," I said, almost unintentionally out loud, " Once we get there?" After it left my lips it felt like a loaded question - would we sleep in the same bed? Boba managed to answer it easily:

          " I'll teach you how to fly," he promised. " When we get there."

Upon landing, I found the landscape of Geonosis to be underwhelming and dull. Not like the pictures I'd seen of the beautiful, mammoth red rock formations on the desert planet Tatooine; the rocky terrain of Geonosis lacked both drama and color.

          " The deserts are beautiful," Boba assured me as we climbed from the ship, as if reading my mind.

          We took a transport to the Coliseum, and from there would walk to find the cave where Boba's ship was hidden. He didn't want any of the Geonosians finding out about his hideout - he didn't seem to trust them, though to me they seemed harmless enough. When we arrived at the huge, circular structure, Boba paid our driver and we climbed out. Our only luggage was a small backpack that Boba wore - it contained a few pairs of clothing for each of us, and a canteen he'd bought at the space port. These were the possessions of a boy who had more credits than he would ever know what to do with.

          " So what are we looking for?" I asked as our driver sped off. He'd given us some comment as he was leaving in a language I didn't understand, something that I guessed was a warning about the area or a remark about our mysterious request to be dropped off at the Coliseum on a day when it was very obviously closed. Dusk was falling around the giant rock structure, and Boba didn't answer my question, only stared up at the Coliseum, expressionless.

          " Boba?" I said, and he turned to me as if he'd just remembered I was there.

          " Oh," he said, shaking his head, " There's a stream nearby, and a couple of dead trees with twisted trunks. We'll look for that."

          I walked to him and touched his arm. " This is the place where your father died, isn't it?" He nodded.

          " I'd like to visit his grave," he said, " If you don't mind." 

          " Of course," I said, embracing him. He returned my hug but seemed distracted. 

We walked about 200 feet to the north of the Coliseum, to a jagged boulder that was just at the foot of the mountainous area that bordered the flat terrain the Coliseum was built on. Boba placed a hand on the boulder and walked around to the other side. I followed soundlessly, and saw his gaze sink down to the earth. 

          He got down on his knees and began brushing sand away, eventually revealing a long, nearly flat stone. Scratched into the stone in a child's crude penmanship were the words JANGO FETT. Boba ran his fingers over his father's name.

          " They took the knife I used to write this," he said, his voice strange, " When I was arrested. It was a gift from my Dad - it had a bone handle. I never got it back."

          " I'm sorry," I said. I wanted to fall to my knees and cradle him, but I felt sick to my stomach. As a child he'd had to drag his father's lifeless body from the battleground where he'd died to bury him. A ten year old boy working in the sun to dig a final resting place for his father - the same rage that Boba felt for this Jedi surged through me - what had happened to him wasn't fair.

          At the same time, I felt uncomfortable staring down at his father's name. I blamed this Jango in part for what had happened to Boba - why was his son along on such a dangerous mission, anyway? As the orange-purple light of dusk fell around us, I couldn't help but feel animosity toward the departed Fett. It was irresponsible of him to bring a child into a dangerous world that he couldn't protect him from. But at the same time, thinking about what life would be like without Boba, I was glad for his father's mistake. 

          Watching Boba kneeling there with his head bent toward the ground, my mothering instincts kicked in and I wanted nothing more than to take him home, put him to bed and comfort him. Of course that would be difficult since we were apparently going to be residing in a cave - not to mention the fact that certain other instincts were threatening to interfere, prompting me to imagine myself climbing into the bed with him . . .

          " We should go," he said, standing, " Its getting dark." I nodded, and touched his face gently, wanting to take his pain away.

          " Calli," he whispered, and moved as if to kiss me but then stopped himself. I suppose it didn't seem appropriate, there at his father's resting place. 

          A strange foreshadowing of what would always come between us - the memory of his father. We walked on to find his ship, hidden well by a little boy who knew he would someday need it.

After a good deal of walking and some rather treacherous climbing, we finally saw the mouth of the giant cave that Boba remembered as his hiding place. He rushed toward it, and I followed as best I could, exhausted. 

          Darkness had fallen over the caverns of Geonosis by the time we'd entered the cave, and as we walked deeper into it my heart rate increased - who knew what kind of monster may have taken up residency there since Boba had left? But he pressed on fearlessly, until his outstretched hands touched the cool metal of the _Slave I_. 

          " Its here!" he shouted, jubilant. He fumbled for awhile with the door of the ship, and pulled it open. A cloud of dust that we could taste but not see met us and sent us both into a coughing fit. Boba climbed into the cockpit and I followed him - once inside he began furiously pressing buttons, and the ship slowly roared back to life.

          " Ha!" he exclaimed with a grin as the lights in the cockpit came on. He kissed the control board. " I told you she was the best! Still working after all this time idling - now that's craftsmanship!" He looked to me for some enthusiasm - I yawned.

          " Boba," I said, so tired I could barely see straight. " Is there a sleeping quarters in this thing?"

          " Sure," he said proudly, " She's got everything - just go right through that door behind me," he said, flicking his head toward it, " You'll find the bed all the way in the back." I stood to leave and he continued pressing buttons and checking the ship's various systems. The control board looked alien to me, and I realized how out of place I would have felt in flight school - surely the other applicants would have had more hands on experience than I. Thinking about my choices - to be thrust into the highly competitive world of military training school or to fall into the bed of the man I loved - I wondered if I had made the right choice, or if I'd simply taken the easier path.

          I walked through the ship's main compartments - it was mostly comprised of a variety of weaponry - I saw the armor Boba had spoken of, resting under a thick layer of dust on a table near a small sink. The helmet's faceless stare gave me goosebumps, and I continued on to the bedroom. 

          The tiny bedroom was comprised of a mattress and blanket that covered most of the floor, and also a small cot that had been added on to the left wall - just big enough for a young child. I walked to it and ran my hands over the white sheets that Boba had slept on as a boy - they were still tousled as if he'd just climbed out of bed. Two pillows were stacked at the head of the bed - his and his father's. I took both of them and placed them side by side on the larger bed, so he'd get the idea when he came in - he didn't have to squeeze onto his old cot.

          I let my hair down and undid the buttons of my shirt and clasp of my skirt - just the act of undressing made my cheeks burn. In a tank and my underwear, I quickly slid under the covers. Once there, of course I couldn't sleep. Despite the fact that I was more tired than I could ever remember being in my entire life at the orphanage, I laid awake and listened for the sounds of Boba coming to bed.

          By the time his footsteps finally echoed through the main rooms of the ship, I had nearly nodded off despite my anticipation - hearing him I rolled over and shut my eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep. I heard the door creak open softly, and just knowing he was in the room sent a deep shudder through my whole body.

          He closed the door behind him just as carefully, taking great care not to wake me. I listened to him undress with a sort of delicious but unbearable expectancy, waiting to feel his weight press down on the other side of the bed.

          When he finally took his place beside me, I couldn't resist it any longer, and I rolled over and wrapped my arms around him from behind - it was dark and he wasn't facing me, but I could feel his body relax in relief.

          " Are you cold?" he asked me, unsure of how to proceed, " Do you need another blanket?"

          " No," I said, though it was quite chilly since night had fallen. I pressed my face urgently to his back - his skin was so warm, and smelled so good. Allowing myself to be bold, I kissed one his shoulder blades - he tasted like heaven, like the stars - like everything beautiful and untouchable. I let my legs tangle with his and realized he was wearing only his underwear. " I'm just fine."   

          I waited for a reaction from him, and for a long time he just laid still. Afraid I had moved too fast, I let my arms loosen around him, and moved my lips from his back. But before my heart could sink too low, he rolled over and put his arms around me, kissing my forehead, stroking my hair.

          " Calli," he said, squeezing me to him, " I didn't plan on this, okay? I thought I would be able to let you go. I even thought I wanted to - so I could be alone, so I would be stronger."

          " Boba," I said, lifting my head to kiss his neck, his shoulder, " I'll make you stronger, I promise. Somehow, I'll find a way."

          " You're my reason to live," he said, point blank and unembarrassed, " That makes me strong."

          I was holding back tears when our lips finally met, because I couldn't help wondering - was I his second reason to live, next to revenge? Because if he loved me more than his someday vengeance, I had a chance of stopping him, of keeping him safe. I was too afraid to ask him to put me first, though - afraid he would always resent me for his missed chance at justice.

          But when we kissed each other like we did for the first time that night - deeply, hardly bothering to breathe, when his lips left mine and traveled down my neck, my collar bone - all my practical worries dissipated, and there was only Boba's body and mine in the universe, floating through space on that little bed, our awkward testing ground and blissful sanctuary.

After experiencing real freedom for the first time in my life, I understood Boba's comparison of the orphanage to a prison. No more wake up calls, no morning chores, no class, no lunch bells and no lights out. For awhile the comfort and ease of our life in Geonosis even tricked me into thinking it would last - how could he leave, after all, when every day felt like heaven?

          Later of course I realized that it was only heaven to me - that Boba, no matter where he was or who he was with, could never shake the scars and demons of his past, the ones that would pave the way to the undoing of our little world.

          But for a few months, our life was paradise. We stayed in the cave in Geonosis - humans weren't exactly a common sight in the Geonosian towns and cities, and Boba was afraid we'd draw too much attention to ourselves if we lived in them. This was perfectly fine with me - it meant I had him all to myself. 

          We arranged the cave like a proper house - or at least, what two orphans who'd never really lived in a proper house imagined one to be. We pulled the mattress and blankets out of _Slave 1_ and put them near the mouth of the cave - just close enough so that the sun could eventually wake us from our slumber, which often lasted until mid-day. The stream that ran through the cave served as our kitchen sink and a shallow pool we found deeper inside as our bathtub. 

          We hunted and fished for our food - Boba taught me how to use a blaster, which was intimidating at first but did prove useful. Sometimes I would venture into the marketplace nearby the Coliseum - on days when executions were scheduled the variety of food was the greatest, though the prices were highest and the streets more crowded and harder to navigate. I learned a few words in Geonosian - all I can remember now are those I used most: "How much is it?"

          I had never shopped before, and I'd certainly never had any money. It was an incredibly alien feeling - being able to have things, to come home with an armload of new possessions. Boba always seemed amused with my daily adventures - I'd come home with candles to light our makeshift bathtub, finely-made blankets to keep us warmer when the temperature dropped at night, beautifully woven rugs to cover the rough floors of the cave.

          " Come on, Calli," he'd say, grinning, " This is the hideout of a dangerous criminal! You're cramping my style!"

          He always said this to me: _you're cramping my style_. He was the one who asked me along, I'd always remind myself, trying not to take his joking seriously.

          For awhile I almost thought he'd forgotten his mission - our days consisted of nothing that seemed like the preparation for an ambush on a Jedi. We'd wake up late, eat our breakfast in bed, take a bath together, and Boba would either disappear with a tool set under the ship or give me a flying lesson before dinner. I was getting better - I felt comfortable in Boba's _Slave 1_, with him sitting by my side and giving me encouragement and instruction, the landscape of Geonosis soaring by beneath us.

          After dinner he'd scoop me up, giggling and a bit drunk from the cheap Geonosian wine we'd buy at the marketplace, and carry me to bed.

          " Boba Fett," I'd say, laughing as we pulled each other's clothes off, " You are the galaxy's greatest lover." He'd grin at my heavily biased comment and curl his arms to show off his muscles jokingly before pouncing on me.

          I never would have guessed that this would later become a household fact - that Boba Fett was indeed the galaxy's greatest lover, by reputation, at least. Or that he would become even more famous as the galaxy's most deadly and heartless bounty hunter.

          A girl happy and in love, of course I couldn't have seen any of that coming. Boba and I would finish and fall back onto our pillows, sleepily kissing each other's cheeks as we drifted off to sleep - I remember this as my favorite time of day, late at night, when Boba would absently rub my bare back until sleep took over, when his breath would steady, all his muscles relaxing around me. Before I nodded off myself, I would watch him sleep, pompously thinking that I had brought some peace to his troubled life.

          I thought those days would last forever - I was a fool. But not completely - there was a nagging place inside me that remembered Boba's solemn vows to avenge his father, that didn't underestimate his determination. It was just easy to ignore that place inside when he was sleeping safe in my arms.

We lived on Geonosis for a good while without much word from the outside world, but six months or so after we'd arrived, Boba began making regular pilgrimages to the surrounding towns, in search of a life form who spoke one of his languages - ours or Huttese, something his father had taught him. He was looking for 'information', he told me. I knew with cold certainty which information he sought - the identity of his father's killer, and how he could get access to him. I was never invited on these trips to town.

          Alone in the cave, there wasn't much to do but work on my Geonosian - I'd come across a few children's reading books and I was trying to decipher their alien alphabet. Still, I felt there wasn't much point to what I was doing - I didn't have any plans to integrate myself into Geonosian society - I guess I was just trying to kill time until Boba got back. The fact that none of my lessons stuck reveals what I was really thinking about.

          A black seed of worry was planted in my heart as soon as he began disappearing like this - one night he didn't return at all, and I cried myself to sleep, thinking about what a fool I'd been to believe he belonged to me. 

          The next day, when the _Slave 1_ pulled back into the cave, I sat up from my fitful sleep and rubbed my eyes, fearing the worst. He had found something.

          Boba climbed out of the ship and I felt a jab of panic when I saw him - he was bleeding. It was just his arm, but the gash looked deep and serious.

          " Boba!" I said, jumping up and running to him. He leaned against _Slave 1_ and looked at me, holding his arm.

          " Its alright," he said, " Its just a cut."

          " Let me see," I said, pulling his arm away. I winced when I saw the wound up close - it looked painful. " Boba, this needs attention . . ."

          " Alright," he said, grimacing and making his way over to the bed, " There's a first aid kit by the sink in the ship." I nodded and climbed inside, through the little door behind the cock pit and over to the sink - once there I noticed something was missing. His father's armor was no longer in a dust-covered pile on the table beside the sink. A chill moved through me as I gathered the supplies to wrap his cut.

          " What happened?" I asked when I climbed back out of the ship. " Who gave you this?" I poured some antiseptic solution onto a cotton swab. 

          " A trader I met - agh!" he growled when I pressed the solution to his cut. 

" In a tavern," he finished, still wincing a bit as the medicine sunk in.

          " Why?" I asked, terrified of his answer.

          " He had something I needed," Boba said, not looking at me. His tone was so grave, I stopped fumbling with the bandages and looked up at him. He finally met my eyes after I'd been staring at him for some time.

          " And did you get it?" I asked, making my voice cold.

          " Yes," he said, returning my frozen sentiment. The look in his eyes made me wonder if he was the same man who had left me there the day before. Without another word I wrapped his cut, maybe more tightly than I should have. I turned from him without asking any further questions and went to start a fire to cook breakfast. Boba undressed, and out of the corner of my eye I surveyed his familiar body for any further damage.

          When I brought him his breakfast, he ate hungrily, as if he hadn't been fed in days. When he was done he took the plate to the stream and rinsed it off. All this time I sat watching him, my food untouched in my lap. Finally he turned and glared at me.

          " _What_, Calli?" he shouted, " Why are you looking at me like that?"

          " You killed that man, didn't you?" I said, my voice more frightened than I'd meant it to sound. He ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the right way to tell me the answer I already knew. He looked out at the sky beyond the cave's entrance, narrowing his eyes in the glare of the sun.

          " I wouldn't have had to if he didn't fight me," he muttered.

          " Oh, Boba," I said, my head falling to my hands. " Why?"

          " He was bragging about making deliveries to the Jedi Council on Corasaunt," Boba said, his voice completely flat now, " It was exactly the kind of thing I'd been waiting for - a drunk tradesman who had some sort of access to their headquarters. I had drinks with him, and asked him questions about where he made the deliveries, how tight the security was. I must have bought him fifty credits worth of drinks before he mentioned that he had a key pass to their docking bay."

          " I see," I said in a deadened whisper.

          " I asked if he had it on him, and he started to get suspicious," Boba continued, " He said, 'What's it to you?', and I knew I wasn't going to get any more out of him with words. I waited outside for him to leave, and jumped him, but then he came up with this knife out of nowhere. He slashed my arm, so I blasted him. I found this in his wallet." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a plastic key card, with a complex hologram on the front. 

          I said nothing, but began to eat my breakfast, dazed. This was the beginning of the end, I knew.

          " His ship was parked outside the tavern," Boba said, " I left in it and hid it outside of town. I went back for the _Slave 1_ this morning. I'm sorry if you were worried," he added, as an afterthought, as if that was the reason I was mad at him.

          " Did anyone see you?" I asked.

          " It wouldn't have mattered if they did," he said, " I was wearing my father's armor. They wouldn't have seen my face."

          His father's armor. I put down my plate and fell onto my side on the bed.

          " So avenging your father is going to cost more than one man's life?" I said, squeezing my eyes shut against our sheets.

          " It will cost the lives of anyone who gets in my way," he said, speaking in a manner I barely recognized. " And anyway, that guy was trash, a waste of life."

          " Is that really for you to decide, Boba?" I asked, a silent tear sliding down my cheek. 

          " Its for whoever draws their weapon fastest to decide, Calli," he said, stomping off toward the back of the cave.

          " Boba, are you leaving now?" I whispered into the sheets, knowing he couldn't hear me. I was afraid to ask, because, again, I already knew what the answer would be.

We spent that day in nervous isolation from each other. Boba took a long time in his bath, so I left and went for a walk through the canyon. During the time we'd lived there I had come to appreciate Geonosis's landscape and the creatures that dwelled there, so I tried to take some small comfort in my surroundings. 

          As the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky, I wandered all the way down the canyon to a small lagoon I'd never discovered before. Peering into the clear water, I saw huge fish swimming beneath the surface. Their scales had an odd reflective quality - the sun traced rainbow patterns onto their backs.

          I took my shoes off and put my feet in the cool water. Though I tried not to, all I could think about was how much I wanted to share this place with Boba. The fat fish, easy to catch and beautiful to watch. The soothing sound of the small waterfall, the deep lagoon, its bottom visible through the clear water. Alone, all it brought me was a sadness that I could not put my finger on. What was happiness if you had no one to share it with?

          I realized then why Boba had taken me with him when he left the orphanage. He wanted me to share in his triumphs - he was probably hoping I'd congratulate him when he returned home with the key card.

          Maybe it was he who didn't know me at all. I could not celebrate the death of an innocent man, no matter what vantage his passing gave us.

          I spent a long time at the lagoon that day, just sitting and thinking. What would I do if Boba did leave? Would I wait for him to return? And when he didn't? It wasn't that I didn't have confidence in Boba - I knew he was _smart_ enough to pull off his mission. But I had never seen him in combat - I had no idea what he was capable of. I still had nightmares wherein a Jedi ended his life with one blow of his lightsaber. Just thinking about it made me sick to my stomach - that Boba might meet the same fate his father had. Not only because I'd lose him, but also because, in the millisecond before the lightsaber struck him, he'd realize that he'd failed his father. In that one moment between life and death there would be enough pain to stretch across eons.

          Eventually I grew too hungry to avoid facing him any longer, and after an afternoon spent communing with the fish I couldn't bring myself to catch one and eat it for dinner. I thought about this - it was the difference between Boba and I. We saw life differently - to me it was precious and fleeting, to him it was just the difference between breathing and flat-lining. Maybe because of his time spent on Kamino, because of the influence of the star-worshippers. Perhaps when he'd blasted the trader the other night he thought he was only returning the man's star-soul to the heavens.

          On second thought, I doubted it. He just wanted the key card. The man, like he'd said, was just in his way. I sighed, and stood to leave.

          After the long walk back, I had gone from slightly hungry to absolutely starving. Darkness was quickly falling over the canyon, and when I finally saw the welcoming mouth of our cave and smelled dinner cooking, I felt immense relief. I climbed the path up to our little abode, and saw Boba pulling some roasted yucca bird from the fire. 

          He saw me out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything. He brought the meat over to the table and cut it into two sections. He wouldn't look at me, but he fixed me a plate.

          " That smells good," I said, standing awkwardly at the mouth of the cave.

          Boba kept his eyes on his meal, taking a bite and chewing slowly.

          " Where have you been?" he asked, with a mouthful.

          " Around," I said, without moving. I waited for him to say something else - perhaps an apology was what I wanted - but he just sat in silence, eating his dinner. After awhile of this I gave in and went to the table, began scarfing down my food. I would periodically glance up at him, sitting across the table from me, but he never took his eyes off his dinner. He finished quickly and went to wash his plate off in the stream. 

          " Do you hate me, Callia?" he asked suddenly, and I blanched at his use of my full name more than his question itself. He was still kneeling beside the flowing water, and still not looking at me.

          " Of course I don't," I said, pushing my plate away and standing, " I love you, Boba." It was the first and only time I ever told him this - he never said it to me.

          " But I killed someone last night," he said, standing and placing his plate back on the table. Finally he met my eyes - I'd never seen his look so sad, not since he first arrived at the orphanage, back when he'd freshly lost everything. " Do you hate me for that?" he asked. I shook my head.

          " I couldn't hate you," I said, " But I - don't agree with what you did." He nodded to himself.

          " I have to go away," he said, those brown eyes burning into mine, " Do you understand? You understand what I have to do?"

          My eyes filled, and I had to look away from him. 

          " When will you be back?" I asked, my voice wavering.

          " I don't know," he said, " I don't know how long it will take."

          " Alright then," I said, turning and going to the bed. I collapsed onto the mattress we'd slept on every night since we'd arrived on Geonosis, and sobbed into the sheets. He slid down behind me and held me, offering no apology, only the soft touch of his lips on the back on my neck.

          I guess we didn't have any words left. I rolled over and kissed him, tried to catalogue the taste of his mouth so that I would remember it. I couldn't think of any words to prescribe to it but _Boba_. My brain had filed that taste under his name.

          Kneeling over him, I pulled his shirt off over his head. I tried to appreciate the feeling of his warm, flat stomach rising to meet my kisses, the slight tremble of his skin, the way his breathing quickened. But all that was running through my mind were the words _Boba don't leave me, don't go_. I wouldn't let myself say them.

          I took off my clothes and pulled him on top of me and then down against me, tightly, to experience the secure feeling of being crushed under his body for what I thought was the last time. I wanted him closer, I wanted him inside of me, but he just kept kissing my shoulders, my face, lingering.

          I finally had to reach down and undo his pants myself, leaning forward to push them off of him. He managed a grin in spite of everything, and moved off of me to slide out of the last of his clothes.

          " Calli," he said, sitting for a moment on the edge of the bed, completely naked and looking out at the last of the orange rim around the planet, the remains of the sunken sun. He looked beautiful in the purple evening light - I'll never forget this image of him, his profile, his perfect features plunged subtlety in sorrow that night before he left me. He looked at me - that look, Boba's attention focused on me, still made me shiver in a helpless, wonderful way.

          " What do you want more than anything?" he asked, it seemed, for lack of anything better to say. " I'll bring it back for you."

          " You," I said, in my tone a very obvious defeat. " Alive."

          " I knew you were going to say that," he said with a half-smile, looking down at his feet. After some silence: " Why do you care about me?" 

          " I don't know," I answered, honestly. " Sometimes I wish I didn't." He nodded slowly.

          " Have I ruined your life?" he asked.

          " Not yet," I said. He looked at me and smiled. A number of phrases could have been inserted here - _I love you_, or, _You're the best thing that ever happened to me_, for example. I was ninety-nine percent sure that he thought these things at least once in awhile, but I would never have any proof, and my one percent of doubt would always bother me.

          If he was thinking these things, he let none of it leave his lips, and in sad near-silence we made love for the last time before he left me. It was neither the last time in our lives that we'd make love, nor was it the last time he'd leave me. 

That night, while clutching at him hopelessly as we slept, I dreamt of him. It was the prelude to what my life without him would become: a string of dreams and nightmares, a life lived in sleep.

          In the dream he was flying. I tried to follow him; I even got a few feet off the ground, but after a couple of seconds of reaching for him I fell on my face. He was wearing his jet pack, and I didn't have any wings. Lying there watching him take off, half-waking, I thought of all my girlhood dreams of being a pilot, of flying, of space. 

          My eyes opened reluctantly, the early light of morning harshly touching them.

          I'll never get off the ground, I thought.I gave everything up for him and I don't even have anything to show for it. I was surprised to look over at him and find him awake, looking at me. He was lying on his stomach with his cheek pressed to his pillow, wearing a curious expression that made him look like a little boy. I still couldn't make myself believe that he had killed someone.

          " I've got to leave now," he said, his voice still scratchy from sleep. I didn't move, didn't speak. Maybe if I stay completely still, I thought, time will, too.

          " Calli," he said, after waiting for an answer from me that didn't come. He scooted over to me and put one of  his svelte but heavy arms around me - he had been training for his departure during all of the time we were together, and I hadn't even noticed. It had only looked like rock climbing, like push ups to me. I thought he was just being vain, or trying to impress me. But on the day he left all of his muscles were hard as rocks, and his powerful limbs could lift me like I was a doll.

          He pulled himself closer, brought his face right up against mine. Nose to nose. 

          " Whatever people say about me," he said, " Tomorrow or ten years from now. Remember me this way, okay? Just like this." He kissed the bridge of my nose and squeezed me to his chest, so that I couldn't see his face. For a moment I thought he might actually be shedding a few tears over me, but of course he wasn't. Someone who had buried his own father couldn't be moved to cry over a woman, I suppose. Losing me was not the greatest tragedy in Boba's life.

          "Boba," I said, my own voice sounding like the timid squeak of a much younger girl. " No one will ever change my mind about you." In the deepest parts of me it would always be true - and only because of my understanding that I was the only one in the galaxy who truly knew him. He smiled at me, and climbed out of our bed. He got dressed - first in his usual brown pants and loose shirt, and then in the Mandalorian armor. I watched him attach each weapon, each shield. With every piece he put on I lost another part of him.

          Last was the helmet. I climbed out of bed before he could put it on, ran to him and threw my arms around him. But he felt different already - cold, hard - the protective gear keeping him far from me. I slid off of him, and he cupped my chin and kissed me for the last time before climbing aboard _Slave 1_ and flying out of my life. I could scarcely feel his lips on mine - he was already lost to me.

          He walked from me toward the ship, and before he put his father's helmet on, he turned back to say:

          " I won't be long."


	3. Chapter Three

When Boba left my dream-life began. I spent most of my days in bed, killing time, thinking of him. I was depressed - I wasn't eating much - I didn't have the energy to hunt. If he doesn't care enough to stay with me, I thought, what's the point in living? 

          So I lived in my dreams. Some were wonderful - warmly lit reunions or snippets from our childhood, before things were complicated. Sometimes it was a combination of the two - we'd be at our present ages, but lounging in the fields of Corinth. In the dreams I couldn't stop touching him - just simple things, a kiss on the cheek or a hand through his thick hair. It felt so real, and the part of me that knew it wasn't wanted to at least savor the façade. Boba would always be smiling, looking into the distance, completely relaxed. No father to avenge, no doomed destiny to inherit.

          Of course my heart wasn't the only part of me that missed him - my body did, too, fueling dreams of a different sort. Dreams where he would soar in on his jetpack during the night and take me wearing full armor - strangely these dreams were more lonely to wake from than the ones of a more tender nature.

          But by far the most unsettling to wake from alone were the nightmares. In almost all of them, Boba met some horrible fate that I couldn't save him from or warn him about. I always saw it coming and he never did - a silly unreality, to think that the son of a bounty hunter wouldn't sense danger and that a naïve orphan girl would, but my real fear was simply that he was in over his head. Boba was raised by a ferocious and competent warrior, yes, but only for half of his young life. For the second half he was mainly in my company, which may have saved a bit of his soul but was not necessarily good training for battle.

          Months passed. My cheeks grew hollow from hunger, and thick strands of my long hair fell out on my pillow. I was malnourished, and had barely been out of the cave since he had left. 

          It was hard, but somehow I pulled myself out of the cocoon that my bed had become, got dressed and walked to the mouth of the cave. Squinting against the daylight, I held my hand over my face and thought about where I might go - I had to get out of there. I remembered the lagoon I'd found the day before he left, and set out for the long hike, bringing along a canteen full of stream water for the journey.

          In the state I was in I could barely make it, and I had to make frequent stops to rest and drink. The water from the canteen was nearly gone before I'd even gone half the distance, and I began to wonder if trying to make the trek with only some ploi ploi fruit and a piece of stale bread in my stomach was such a good idea.

          But when I finally made it to the lagoon, my fatigue disappeared. I had forgotten how eerily beautiful it was - like an oasis in the desert. It was still full of fat, rainbow-scaled fish. Hot from the long walk, I slipped out of my clothes, which were more like tents then, and joined the fish in the cool water.

          Floating on my back, I looked up at the sky. I let myself fantasize for a moment about seeing the _Slave 1 _suddenly descending from space, but then stopped myself. I had to stop wishing for Boba to return. Each day it became more and more obvious that he wasn't coming back.

          I was afraid he was dead. Another - more selfish - part of me was also afraid that he was alive, and simply didn't want to come back to me. 

          Knowing I would never be able to understand Boba and his motives, I tried to stop thinking about him. I let myself slip under the clear water, and kept my eyes open so I could see the fish. They swam around me, unafraid.

          How easy, the life of a fish, I thought, kicking deeper to see how far down I could go. I could nearly touch the bottom before my ears began to whine in pain and my breath grew short. Turning around, I watched the sun beams that pierced the water as I surfaced - the Geonosian sun, the only one I had ever known. The only star my tiny body had ever orbited. To think that there were other suns in the universe - and millions of planets that circled them - was almost overwhelming. I wondered which sun's rays Boba was walking under at that moment - or was he far from sun, alone and frightened in the cold of night? Or worse - had he become his own star, in death? If I die, I thought, floating idly in the water with the fish sweeping carefree around my ankles, the heavenly body that would suit me would be a planet, orbiting Boba's star-soul. My thoughts had found a way to return to him - I would never be free of him; even in death he would be the center of my world.

          I groaned at my own morbid thought process, and pulled myself out of the water. I laid down on my discarded clothing and let the winds that swept down through the canyon cool me as the sun dried my skin. Lying naked and vulnerable in the Geonosian mountains, I felt strangely calm. I rolled on my side and watched the fish. They were still there, of course - fat. Fresh. Tasty?

          I was hungry - for the first time in awhile I had a real appetite, not just the human desire to sustain myself with some meager food. My eyes moved to the nearest tree - 'tree' by Geonosian standards meant a dead-looking husk of trunk with spindly branches. I stood and put my shirt and underwear back on, and broke a branch off of the tree - a sharp and strong one, a makeshift spear.

          Going back to the water, I looked down at the circling fish. I felt guilty with the branch in my hand - yes, they were just animals, but I wasn't sure I had the right to kill them just because I was higher on the food chain. Of course I couldn't be held accountable for it by law - unless Geonosis had some strange wildlife preservation laws that I didn't know about - but it felt wrong on a different level. On a moral level - hadn't I just been swimming with them? Were we so different?

          I sat down by the water's edge, defeated and starving. _No attachments_, Boba  had always muttered when we were in bed together, _I'm breaking all of my father's laws_. Apparently this was part of some bounty hunter code - that the life of a killer was simpler when he cared for no one. But this was foolishness, and impossible - Jango had cared for Boba, and if his son had been put in danger he would have risked tarnishing his career to help him.

          At least I hoped he would have.

          Either way, I had grown attached to the fish there in that peaceful place, and it meant that I wasn't going to eat. Maybe Jango was right. My stomach moaned a complaint as I stood to leave, pulling on my skirt - and the 'belt' I'd had to fashion from string just to keep it on - before refilling the canteen from the lagoon. 

          The walk back was hard - and I hadn't realized how long I'd spent at the lagoon, once again. Darkness swept across the canyon, and the sight of one of my shirts drying on a tree outside our cave was a welcome one. 

          As I climbed up to the cave, racking my brain for something I could eat, I heard the distant sound of cheers from the Coliseum - an execution night. Inside, I lit candles and began searching every nook and cranny for something to eat. Finally I remembered that Boba had kept some dried meat in a crate by _Slave 1_ to snack on when he was working on the ship. I hurried to the part of the cave that had served as the 'garage', hoping he hadn't taken it with him.         

          Luckily, it was still there. I happily whipped off the top of the crate - but when I saw the contents I recoiled. A blaster and a piece of paper - a note - lay on top of the food packages. I picked up the blaster awkwardly and set it aside, going for the note. Something slid off of it when I picked it up - our charge card, that held the records of all of Boba's credits. I put that aside, too, surprised that he'd left it, and read the note.

          _Calli_, it said, _I figured you might hit the bottom of the food barrel here before you ventured out to the market - well, here is our card. I made a separate account for myself and took what I needed - the rest is yours. The blaster also - remember everything I taught you, okay? Be careful. Buy a landspeeder in town so you won't have to travel on foot. I don't know how you managed to be sheltered from it as an orphan - I like to think I had a hand in it - but the world is a horrible, dangerous place_.

          " Oh, Boba," I muttered, sad for him, " It is not." But maybe I was naïve.

          _Watch out for yourself_, was his last sentence before, _Yours, Boba_.

          Yours. Ha. I realized quickly why Boba had secreted these things away and left them with a note instead of giving them to me himself - he didn't want to admit to me when he left that he knew he wouldn't be coming back, that I would have to make preparations to go on by myself.

          I sat on the floor with his letter for awhile, re-reading it and munching on the dried meat sticks. They weren't very good - I stood and put some clean clothes on.

          I had waited long enough, I decided, the ringing cheers from the Coliseum beckoning in the distance. I was going to town.

I carried a small flashlight I'd found in Boba's old tool box along as I walked toward the growing noise of the arena. I'd never been to the market during a night execution - but I'd heard they were wilder and that the streets were more packed. Working on energy from my first meal complete with protein in awhile, I grew more excited about the atmosphere as I approached - I'd never been out on my own like I was that night, with no Boba waiting at home or matron watching over my shoulder.

          The vendor's stands were spread so thickly around the Coliseum that they nearly reached the boulder that shadowed Jango's grave. I stopped there briefly to blow a kiss to Boba's memory. I noticed that the stone that bore his father's name was still brushed free of sand - he must have visited it before he left Geonosis. The whispered promise for revenge still hanging in the air, goosebumps rose on my arms as I walked on.

          I walked toward the rumble of Geonosians and outlanders that were crowded around the huge stone structure. From the sound of it, the execution inside its walls was just getting good. The Geonosian equivalents of 'Oooh!' and 'Ahhh!' could be heard in collective gasps amidst the screams and roars of the entertainment. The sounds from the Coliseum usually perturbed me, but I was numbed to it a bit that night. 

          The market was different in the evening - the food selection was more catered to Geonosian tastes - baskets overflowing with live bugs and larvae. Another difference was the refusal of my card when I tried to buy a drink at one of the stands.

          " Cash only on fight night," the vendor barked in Geonosian, and I understood after some contemplation. I guess they can afford to be picky with crowds this size, I thought, as I was pushed aside by the next customer in line. 

          Another Geonosian in line said something that sounded like 'change money', and gestured to a large stand in the middle of the excitement. It was run by what I was surprised to recognize from one of my old lessons in the species of the outer rim galaxies as a Twi'lek. I got in line and peered like a clueless tourist at the Twi'lek girl as she changed credits and foreign money to Geonosian currency - she was beautiful, much nicer looking than the male counterparts that my science books had featured. She looked sad - as I approached I realized why - she was wearing a thick, steel collar and chain - a slave. As I got closer I saw a fat, three-eyed Malastarian in the back of the tent, arguing with a Geonosian.

          " Next," the Twi'lek girl said, and her proud voice surprised me - even with a chain around her neck she held her chin up. But as I stepped up to the counter, I saw the pain that her eyes could not hide.

          " May I help you?" she asked in Geonosian when I didn't speak up.

          " Yes," I said, " Paper money, please." She giggled.

          " You mean," she corrected, " _Paper_ money?" she said, using the proper Geonosian word for 'paper'.

          " Oh, yes," I said, embarrassed with my poor knowledge of the language. 

" What did I say?"

          " Tree," she said, smiling, " Tree money. Close! Human?"

          " Yes," I said, wondering how different I looked since I'd lost weight - wasn't it at least obvious that I was human? I suppose I could have been a Clawdite masquerading as one . . .

          " Then we can speak in a tongue you are more familiar with," she said, changing to the human language. " It perturbs my master, though," she said with a playful grin, " He doesn't trust humans or their words."

          " Well, to hell with him," I said, " I don't believe in slavery and I could care less if he trusts me or not." I handed her my card. " Two-hundred in cash, please."

          " That's a lot of money to be carrying around here," she said. " You'll have to be careful - thieves do their best business on the night of a major execution."

          " I'll be alright," I said, gesturing to Boba's blaster, which I had at my hip.

          " Ah, I see," she said, pulling up my account on her scanner, " That 200 credits is nothing for such a wealthy person." 

          " How much do I have?" I asked, wondering how long I would be able to go without working. 

          " Two-hundred and fifty thousand," she said. " My, my. You must come from a prominent family, eh?"

          " Not really," I muttered, still in a bit of shock. " Thanks."

          I noticed that she was still staring longingly at my blaster. I almost wanted to offer to help her escape, but as she handed me my money and returned my card, the next creature in line elbowed his way past me to the counter. He began speaking quickly in Huttese, Boba's second language that I could still only pick a few words from, and she answered him easily. Smart girl, I thought, walking away. Probably smart enough to escape on her own.

          I lazily pushed my way through the crowd, dazed by her answer to my inquiry - two-hundred and fifty thousand - Boba had left me nearly everything. What did he think I needed all of that money for? Did he feel he owed it to me? It was terrifying on two levels - one, because it meant he probably planned on 'working' for future income, most likely in his father's trade. And secondly, because it meant that I could go anywhere I wanted, have anything I wanted. I wouldn't even know where to begin - travelling alone in space was almost too much to imagine. Rich or poor, I was still stuck in the past because of my own cowardice.

          " And I wanted to be in the army," I muttered, scoffing at myself. I looked up and saw ships landing in a sort of parking area back behind the Coliseum. I noticed a tent near the landing pad where money seemed to be changing hands, and headed in that direction. 

          When I reached the tent, I saw a mass of ship parts for sale inside, and a sign in Geonosian - 'We Service Your Craft While You Watch the Fight! Guaranteed to be ready by the time the last criminal is splattered!' There was a notation after their slogan and a legal disclaimer in tiny print at the bottom of the ad - 'Owners are not actually responsible for meeting the deadline of the last criminal executed …' or something along those lines. The manager, an older Geonosian, saw me reading the fine print and hurried over.

          " Hey, hey," he said in his best attempt at joviality. " You need something worked on?" I couldn't help guffawing a bit under my breath - sounded like a bad pick up line, but then, maybe I was translating incorrectly . . . 

          " Actually," I said, nervous about making a large business transaction with my limited language skills, " I was looking for a speeder for sale and thought maybe you could help me." The Geonosian rubbed his chin thoughtfully, pulling long strands of beard through his fingers.

          " I don't have anything here," he told me, " But my son might have one he wants to get rid of. His stand is on the other side of the arena - he's selling cameras."

          " Thank you," I said, hurrying off to find the stand. As I was walking I noticed a handful of humans - not a common site on Geonosis. A lonely place inside me made me almost want to stop them and strike up a conversation - but most were gruff looking men who didn't seem like they'd take kindly to a stranger's advance, human or not. Finally I found the camera stand - the young Geonosian who sat at its counter was sleeping, his - female, I guessed - companion was left watching the counter.

          " Hello," she said as I approached. " How may I help you?"

          " I was told by a mechanic on the other side of the arena that you might have a speeder for sale?" I said. She frowned, and nudged her sleeping partner.

          " Selling our speeder?" I caught in fast-tongued Geonosian. The male grumbled and rubbed his eyes.

          " Who's asking?" he said, glancing up at me. " She doesn't have any money," he muttered, taking a look at my worn clothes and starved appearance.

          " I've got plenty of money," I said, " Cash, too." I flashed him a quick glance at the bundle of bills in my pocket. His eyes widened a bit. 

          " Well," he said, " Its an old model, but she still runs okay. I could let her go for maybe 500."

          " I've only got 200," I said. The female made a disapproving noise. The male's eyes shifted thoughtfully.

          " Two hundred would be robbery," he said, frowning. The woman voiced her agreement. 

          " Its all I've got," I lied - well, it wasn't entirely a lie. It was all I had, in cash. I saw him considering it - I knew it would be hard to sell a landspeeder to another Geonosian unless, like its present owner, he was very lazy - given the fact that they had wings. Since humans were the main demographic for landspeeders, I knew he might see this as a rare opportunity, and therefore sell low.

          His female counterpart, meanwhile, was upset about the idea of selling at that price - he was arguing that he needed money because of gambling debts or something . . . their voices spiked and became hard to understand. Eventually the girl disappeared in a huff into the back of the tent, and he agreed to sell it.

          The landspeeder was not in top condition - I wouldn't have gotten it for that price if it was, no matter how badly he needed the money. It was rusted, and the engine sounded irritated when we started it. Its former owner showed me the controls, and how to work them.

          " Have you flown anything before?" he asked.

          " Yes, a starship," I said pridefully, " I think I can handle this." He rolled his eyes. " By the way," I said, checking the fuel level and systems analysis - the technology was ancient and I could barely make out the symbols on the tiny screen, as the viewer was filthy. " Do you know of any place on Geonosis where humans have settled, or where they congregate when they're on the planet?"

          He made a face. " Geonosians not good enough for you, eh?"

          " Oh, its not that -" I tried to explain, but he waved me off with a scoff.

          " A good ways south of here," he said, " There is a village where some humans once settled. It is mostly a ghost town now, but smugglers and bounty hunters can be found in its bars." My ears perked up at the words 'bounty hunters', and before he could continue, I sped off. 

The ride through the night was pitch dark and rather nervousing, but I had Boba's blaster in my lap and the stars overhead to keep me company. My heart rate had increased since I'd heard the Geonosian's words: _bounty hunters can be found there_. I knew I wouldn't find Boba, but there might be some information there that could put my fears about him to rest.

          For better or worse. I wasn't sure I wanted to know - but I couldn't turn away from a chance to find out. 

          I wondered as I saw the lights of the human city ahead if this was where Boba had killed the man he stole the keycard from. And I wondered if that key had brought him everything he hoped for - I doubted it. I knew that subconsciously he hoped it would return his father to him, but of course, no amount of revenge can raise the dead.

          I parked my speeder outside of the first tavern I found - it was unmarked, but a welcoming glow came from inside, and through its windows I could see people eating. My stomach growled in applause - I was still starving.

          Pushing my way inside, I got more than a few looks - I wasn't the only woman in the tavern by far - several of the men had crowds of pretty girls, both human and alien, at their shoulders. But I looked like a vagabond - especially with the antique vehicle I had pulled up in. 

          " Hey," the creature who was running the bar called, " We don't give hand outs here." For a moment I thought she was a Geonosian, and then I realized - she was Gragarian, a small, winged creature from Tatooine.

          " I've got money," I said, uncomfortable, as everyone in the bar was staring at me. I walked to the counter and looked at the limited menu - there was nothing fancy for sale, but it all sounded good to me. " I'll have the stew," I said, " And a yucca meat pie, some wattu sticks, and one of those sweet bread muffins." I handed her my card, and she glared at me, still skeptical. " A drink, too," I said, " Jawa Juice, please."

          " We only serve hard drinks here," she snorted, pulling up my account. I saw the look of surprise on her face when she read her scanner. " Where does someone who looks like you get all this money, huh?" she asked, suspicious. 

          " My husband is a famous criminal," I lied, " A thief." 

          " Oh yeah?" the Gragarian said, running my card through her register " Have I heard of him?"

          " Yes," I said, " But I'd rather not give him away." She made an annoyed face and handed back my card. I turned and found a table, and eventually the clientele got tired of looking at the new stranger and returned to their drinks and cavorting. I had intentionally sat near a table of men and various creatures who were heavily armed and surrounded by women - bounty hunters, surely. Waiting for my food, I sat back and listened to their conversation. Some were speaking in Huttese, but the humans, at least, were speaking my language.

          " Hey, Karmac," one of the girls was saying, hanging on the shoulders of a heavy-set man with short hair and mini rocket launchers strapped to his elbows. " Tell them about your latest client."

          Karmac laughed. " I shouldn't brag . . ." he said.

          " Come on," a reddish-colored being who reminded me of the fish I'd been swimming with earlier said in an awkward accent, " Who was it?"

          " Luna Organa," I heard Karmac answer, and everyone at the table squealed or groaned. I had never heard of her - Organa was a name that sounded vaguely royal, though. The waitress brought my food to the table.

          " Here you go, doll," she said, putting my four plates down, " And some hard stuff, on the house." She set down a small glass full of an amber liquid. " I think Eulee feels kind of bad for teasing you - now that she knows you've got money," she said with a wink.

          " Thanks," I said, returning to my eavesdropping as I started in on my dinner.

          " Luna Organa," one of the other men was saying, shaking his head and grinning, " Damn fine looking woman, but not worth the trouble. The girl is downright wicked."

          " She put a bounty on her ex-lover's head," Karmac said, obviously relishing the fact that he had a good story to tell, " Apparently some guy broke her heart -"

          " Ooooh," several of the girls cooed, wincing.

          " That takes balls," another man mumbled.

          " So she asked me to bring her his," Karmac said, grinning so hugely that I could hear it in his words, " No body required." Another chorus of approving 'Ohh!'s.

          " Now, this was pretty nasty work - removing a particular organ for bounty," Karmac said, " But well worth the 150,000 credits she paid." He sat back proudly. I made a disgusted face into my stew and tried not to loose my appetite - was this the kind of work Boba's father raised him around? Was this what Boba was doing now? Catering to the rich and twisted's every whim?

          " So how did you - deliver it?" one of the girls asked cautiously.

          " We met in a cantina in the slums of Alderran," Karmac said, " She asked where it was, and I tossed it on the table." The girls made a collective disgusted sound and the men chuckled. " She sort of stared at it for a few minutes, real stoic-like, and then said, 'Oh, its not beating. I'd rather wanted to crush it myself.' And I told her she hadn't specified for a 'beating' heart. She said 'fair enough', gave me the money and pocketed the thing."

          " Eyech," a pure-white woman with long, orange hair said, raising her shoulders, " What a freak!"

          " Damn fine woman, though," the man to Karmac's right said again, puffing on a death stick.

          " I'd have forfeited the credits and asked to spend a night with her as payment," a squirrelly man on the other side of the table said, sparking laughter, a few 'yeah right's and a 'she'd have kicked your ass'.

          " Hey, don't act like its impossible," Karmac said, " You know she has a weakness for _our kind_."

          " What do you mean?" the fish-like man said, " The guy you offed for her was a bounty hunter?"

          " No, no," Karmac said, " But when she first hired me, she was real curious about Boba."

          I nearly whirled around in my seat, but stopped myself before I could. My heart raged at the sound of his name - I didn't think I'd get lucky enough to hear him discussed on the first night I came to the bar.

          " Who the hell is Boba?" the squirrelly man asked, and a few of the other hunters made insulted noises.

          " What are you, some kinda idiot, Pewa?" one of the girls asked, " You never heard of Jango Fett's son?"

          " The hell," Pewa said, making a face. " I didn't know he had a son. I thought Jango was famous for never taking up with women?"

          " He ain't no woman's son," the man on Karmac's right said, " I heard he's a clone. And now that he's growe'd up he's like Jango _back from the dead_."

          " Well, shit," Pewa muttered, " That means business is about to take a dive for all of us. I never got any big jobs while Jango was alive."

          " None of us did," Karmac said, " He was like a god. And now Boba's picking up where he left off - I saw him on Corasaunt when I was tracking Organa's bounty. Scared the hell out of me, too - thought I was having some sort of vision. He was wearing Jango's old armor and everything."

          " So what was Luna asking about him?" the red-haired girl asked.

          " Just if he was working, at first," Karmac said, " 'Course I told her no, cause I knew she'd hire him over me in a second. Then she'd just sort of ask how he'd turned out, where he was hanging around these days, stuff like that. I was thinking about why she might have an interest in him beyond his hunting skills, and then I remembered - a political adversary of her father's hired Jango to kidnap her for a while when she was real young, so he could waive some movement Bail was planning in the Senate. Jango always had Boba with him back then - I bet they knew each other when they were kids."

          This more than the story about tossing the heart on the table made my appetite snap away. Some beautiful, dangerous princess had her eye on Boba - and a history with him, too, which hurt me even more. It had never occurred to me that it might be a more exciting woman, rather than just a more exciting lifestyle, that he would abandon me for. Again, this was before I'd come to terms with the curiosity that was Boba and women. I was crushed, I couldn't move in my seat. I kept my ears open - the girls at the table were chiming in their approval.

          " I can hardly blame her for asking about him," one said, " I hear he's _gorgeous_, and if he's anything like his father was in that armor - deadly, too." 

          " Ah, beautiful, deadly - and with daddy's chip on his shoulder," the red-haired girl said, bending teasingly toward Karmac's ear. " Sounds hot!"

          " Yeah, pretty soon all our groupies will be relocating to Corasaunt," Karmac said, grinning at her.

          " What's he doing on Corasaunt?" a gruff-voiced hunter asked. " Hunting someone?"

          " I guess so," Karmac said with a shrug. " He wouldn't go into detail about it. You know those Fetts - they keep to themselves. Polite, but not friendly."

          Having to blink back tears, I realized I couldn't listen anymore - I hadn't excepted news of Boba being alive and well on Corasaunt to hurt me so badly. I grabbed the drink the waitress had brought and threw it back in one gulp - it tasted nothing like the wine Boba and I used to drink - it burned all the way down and made me wince. I searched my pockets and found a few coins to throw onto the table for the waitress, stuffed my uneaten wattu sticks and muffin into my napkin and left in a blind streak as the tears began to fall.

          " Come again!" Eulee, the Gragarian behind the counter shouted as I pushed my way out. 

          Although I knew coming back would only torment me further, I also knew that I would not be able to resist. If I could not be with him, I could at least become a connessior of gossip, a collector of stories. Even if each detail of his life without me was another needle to my heart, it was better than nothing. Hearing about him from strangers made me sad - more evidence that he didn't belong entirely, or maybe at all, to me - but it also made me feel less alone. 

          I wasn't the only one who loved him, after all. The men loved him as a legend and a hero to their profession - in those early years mostly as the memory of his father, their former colleuge - and the women, well, they loved him because he was exciting - fun but scary, beautiful but horrible.

          I was simply the only one for whom love for him brought great pain.

The night wind blew my moist eyes dry, and I began to wish for some goggles as I rode back toward the Coliseum. Every now and then I would hear an animal noise to the left or right, out of sight of my speeder's headlights, and would fire a blaster shot into the sky to scare the creature away. Meanwhile the headlights did catch the glowing eyes of lizards and small rodents, who would hiss at me as I flew past.

          I prayed the speeder would make it home without a hitch - it wasn't the smoothest ride I'd ever had by far, which worried me - and that when I did get home I would be able to draw on Boba's lessons in ship maintenance and the tools he'd left behind well enough to service it a bit.

          It was late by the time I reached the Coliseum, and the execution was long over, the crowds dispersed into only a few stragglers, and the vendors packing up their goods. As I rode through I heard a scream, and looked ahead to find its origin - I noticed the tent where I'd had my money changed, and flew toward it, remembering the kind Twi'lek girl who had given me a lesson in Geonosian vocabulary.

          Driving slowly past the tent, I saw the Malastarian inside screaming at the Twi'lek girl in a language I didn't understand - she kept apologetically repeating the same word - both were pointing at stacked piles of money on the counter. I saw that the slave girl had tears in her eyes, and I realized why when I saw her master raise a whip as if to strike her. She cowered.

I'm not quite sure where the courage for what I did next came from - maybe it was because of the liqueur I'd downed quickly before I left the tavern. Without thinking, I grabbed the blaster from my lap and fired - a crack shot thanks to all of the practicing Boba had made me do, it blew the whip in half in mid-crack. Stunned, the Malastarian dropped the weapon and jerked his eyes up to see who had fired.

          Oh, I thought. Shit.

          Not exactly prepared for a stand-off, especially in my clunky speeder, my brain leapt into a frenzied, immobile panic when he reached under the counter and retrieved a rifle. Before he could fire, the Twi'lek jumped up and grabbed the gun, trying to wrestle it from him. But with her chains restraining her, he easily knocked her away.

          He lifted the gun again, but this time I was ready - my shock had melted away and my adrenaline had kicked in. I stomped on the accelerator and my speeder shot around toward the back of the tent. He fired several shots, one that grazed the back of my craft and sent it into a shaky descent.

          " No!" I said, yanking up on the controls. I was able to pull it up before it hit the ground, but now the Malastarian had leapt over the counter and was running toward me with his weapon raised. I abandoned the speeder and rolled behind the tent. The Twi'lek stuck her head out from under the back flap and grinned at me.

          " I knew when I saw you that you would help me!" she said, smiling and seemingly unmoved by what was going on. " You are my _Menishkia_, sent by our gods to rescue me, yes?"

          " Sure," I said, firing around the side of the tent at the Malastarian, who had the nerve to be using my speeder as cover.

          " My chains!" she said, holding out the thick leash around her neck. I ducked behind the tent and fired on the metal-link leash that was attaching her to a pole inside the tent, and she crawled out, still wearing the thick collar but now free to move about.

          In the time it took to free her, the Malastarian had moved closer and his aim was getting better - a bullet from his rifle whizzed past my ear - or I thought, at first, that it passed. It took a few seconds for the pain to register, but I soon realized that it had skimmed the top of my ear - blood leaked down the side of my face.

          " Agrh!" I groaned, falling back against the tent.

          " The authorities have been called!" the Twi'lek said, " We should get out of here!" I peeked back around the tent and saw some Geonosians in important-looking regalia running toward the Malastarian - he had dropped his weapon and was trying to explain, in Geonosian that was even poorer than mine, that I had started the fight.

          I suppose this was true - I had fired first, no matter that he had committed the first dastardly act by beating his slave. My instincts were telling me to run, but I didn't want to leave my speeder. 

          " I need that vehicle," I told the Twi'lek, " I can't make it back in the dark without it, or at least the flashlight I left in it."

          She bit her lip for a moment. " Alright," she said, " Let me handle this." She took my arm and led me toward the security guards and the Malastarian, who was now pointing wildly at me and verbally flailing to accuse me in Geonosian. The guards scratched their heads and asked him to please repeat himself.

          The Twi'lek stepped forward and began calmly explaining the situation to the guards - she was perfectly composed, and her Geonosian was flawless. I heard her say that she was my slave, and that the Malastarian gentleman had been trying to steal her from me for 'sexual purposes'. The guards gave the Malastarian, who could scarcely understand her and therefore didn't protest, a disgusted look. Not only did they loathe foreigners who caused trouble, as a culture they were strictly against inter-species mating.

          As they tried to place handcuffs on the Malastarian he became furious again, and while they struggled to restrain him, the Twi'lek and I slipped into the speeder and began gliding away. The guards shouted a protest - they wanted to question us further. 

          " Floor it," the Twi'lek said, " That story won't hold up if they check my registration."

          " I don't know if running from the guards is such a good idea," I said. " They'll follow us. If we run they'll know we're up to something."

          " Hey, come'on," she said, leaning toward me and grinning. " Live a little."

          I pressed my lips together and looked behind me - guards on speeders that were much sleeker than mine were pulling up to the scene, and, it seemed, preparing to follow us. But what would the impetuous Luna Organa do? I thought, steeling myself. Maybe I could be wild, too - I _had_ started a gun fight . . .

          I pressed my foot to the accelerator, and we soared off. The Twi'lek girl whooped happily - sure, she was happy, she was getting a free hand in escaping - but I had to live on Geonosis, and I wasn't thrilled at the idea of being a wanted woman. But the deed was already done - we were speeding toward the mountains -and the guards were on our tail.

          I pulled the blaster off my hip again and tossed it to the Twi'lek.

          " Can you shoot?" I asked. She made a face that didn't exactly convince me that she was a gunslinger.

          " I can try," she said.

          " No, you grab the controls," I said, and just then blaster shots from behind began zipping by us. " I'll try to put their ship down," I said, ducking down and turning when she grabbed the controls. 

          I fired but didn't get anywhere close - she was flying the ship too erratically, and my shots were bouncing in a way I couldn't account for in my aim. Suddenly a blaster shot hit dead on - straight into my companion's neck.

          " Noo!" I screamed, not only because she was hurt, but also because she let go of the controls and we began heading straight for a canyon wall. I dropped the blaster and grabbed the controls, pulling up drastically, praying we could miss the wall. We soared straight up, bumping the top of the rock but otherwise making it away unscathed. By the time the guard's headlights spotted the wall it was too late, and I heard the explosion behind me as they smashed into the rock. The light from the blast revealed that my home was just up ahead - I saw that same telltale shirt drying in the tree.

          " Whatta ya know," my companion suddenly said, sitting up, and I gasped.

          " Oh!" I said, still shaking from the pressure of my heart ripping wildly about in my chest. " I thought you were dead!"

          " Thick steel," she said, grinning and pulling off her collar, which had been melted by the laser's blast. She groaned, " It burned my skin a bit, though," she said, wincing as a red spot on her neck grew brighter.

          " I might have something in my - er - cave that could help you," I said, " My ear needs attention, too." I thought of the first aid kid Boba had kept on _Slave 1_ - was it still there? I had taken it out to bandage his arm just before he left - I didn't remember putting it back, and it didn't seem like something he would pay attention to himself. It would be beneficial to us, of course, if it was still there - but it made me nervous that Boba might be out there on his quest without any medicinal supplies . . .

          I shook my head at myself for thinking of Boba at a time like that, and landed the speeder inside the cave; it made a deadened whirring sound before it shut off, worrying me further.

          " I am sorry to involve you in this," the Twi'lek girl said, " But I promise that you will be well rewarded for it." She climbed out of the speeder with her hand pressed to her throat, and despite her pain she smiled, " My name is Ipa, and I am a Grand Duchess on the planet Ryloth, my home," she told me. " I was kidnapped by that Malastarian who enslaved me. For more than six months I didn't know what I could do - there were opportunities where I could tell someone who I was and what had happened to me, but I knew it would anger my people so that they would blame the Malastarians as a whole. Tensions between our two worlds have always been high, and I didn't want to start a war over the actions of one man, and all because of my own carelessness."

          " Your carelessness?" I said, going toward the bed and searching for the first aid kit - I found it on the floor, left open, just as it was before Boba left. I pushed away my sorrow when I saw the length of bandage I'd snipped from his wrapped wound, and searched for some sort of salve to soothe Ipa's burn and possibly stop my ear from throbbing in an obnoxious pain.

          " Yes," she said with a sigh, accepting a bottle of vitamin-enhanced cream for her burn. " I was always skeptical about my father's obsession with security," she explained. " I was proud and foolish - often traipsing off on little excursions around the property by myself, just to spite my father's worries. On one of these journeys, I didn't return - the Malastarian caught me and put me in chains."

          " That's horrible," I said, carefully applying some solution to my ear. My nerves jerked in pain, and I winced.

          " I'm so sorry that you were injured because of me," she said, nursing her own wounds with the cream. " As I said, you will be handsomely rewarded. But you haven't even told me your name yet."

          " Callia Antillies," I said, " Calli. And don't worry about it. I'm glad I could help you."

          " Antillies," she said, smiling, " That's a fine name."

          " Is it?" I muttered, trying in vain to attach a bandage to the tip of my ear. " I wouldn't know." She frowned.

          " What do you mean?" she asked, " Are you a lost child like me?"

          " Not lost," I said, giving up on the bandage and just pulling my hair back away from my cut, " But definitely not noble. I was - am - an orphan. My mother was a penniless woman who'd been abandoned while pregnant - she went to the orphanage where I was born and raised for help. She was very weak when she arrived, nearly dead. But she managed to gave birth to me there, and died from complications during labor."

          " How horrible," Ipa said, " I'm sorry to hear this. But you say her name was Antillies?"

          " Yes," I said, " Its all I know about her - her name. Callia Elbe Antillies - my name, too. The matrons at the orphanage named me after her." I shrugged. " As it turns out, I am a lonely wanderer, just as she was."

          " But you are not sick," Ipa reminded me, " And not penniless," she added, with a twinkle in her eye. " Why do you live here in this cave?" she asked, looking around. " Surely you could afford a proper place to live on - a more friendly planet."

          " I guess you could say I'm waiting here for someone," I muttered, sitting down beside the hearth Boba and I had fashioned out of stones and making a pile of kindling for a fire. " Probably in vain," I added.

          " Someone?" she said, " Who would meet you here?"

          " My -" I searched for a word that would describe my relationship with Boba. " A man," I said, " A man I love."

          " Ahhh," she said in the obnoxious tone of someone who has decided that their companion is just another fool for misplaced love. " I see." 

          " It's a long story," I said, not wanting her to think I was like every other woman who waited hopelessly for a man to change, to settle down, whatever. " Its complicated," I added, sounding even more pathetic.

          " I have never been in love," she said, watching as I blew on the fire. As it roared to life I walked to our kitchen area and fetched the kettle I'd bought long ago at the market, and some old tea bags that I'd had for awhile. 

          " Do you want some tea?" I asked her, and she nodded enthusiastically.

          " I haven't had anything good to eat or drink in months," she told me, " How I'll enjoy my homecoming feast on Ryloth when I return!" she said, grinning and rubbing her hands together. I felt jealous of her for a moment - she had a home, someplace where people would be waiting longingly to see her again.

          " If you look on the floor of the speeder," I said, " You'll find some cold wattu sticks and a muffin. I'm afraid that's all I can offer you right now." She hopped up and went to the speeder to retrieve the food, and I followed to fill the kettle at the stream.

          " What will you tell them?" I asked as we both made our way back to the fire, she munching on my sweet bread muffin. " When you get home? If you don't want to start a war with Malastare, that is."

          " I don't know," she said with a mouthful. " Perhaps I'll say I eloped and that the marriage failed." She grinned. We sat down together and watched the kettle heat over the fire.

          " You're lucky you've never really been in love," I told her. " It is the worst thing that ever happened to me." She laughed.

          " You can tell me I don't know what I'm talking about if you like," she said, 

" But is it possible that love has treated you badly simply because you've fallen for the wrong man?"

          " Hmm," I said, pretending to consider. " You don't know what you're talking about."

          " Ah," she said with a smile, " So I thought. Are you expecting him to return any time now?" she asked. " Will he take kindly to a renegade duchess stealing his bride's attention?"

          " I'm no bride," I said with a scoff, " And to be truthful, I'm expecting him less and less as the days pass - he's been gone for several months now."

          " Oh dear," she said, as the kettle began to whistle and I removed it from the fire. " You're afraid he won't come back at all?"

          " I don't know," I said, pouring both of us a cup of water and dropping a tea bag into each. " Part of me _knows _he'll return to me. Another part thinks the first is a naïve little girl who has overestimated the first boy she ever loved."

          Ipa laughed. " You know," she said, " We could be friends. Because you saved my life, you are forever my sister - you know that? But I also think we could be friends."

          " Sure," I said, perking up a bit, " I could use a friend, I guess."

          " I must return to Ryloth tomorrow," she said, " Would you be interested in a job as my personal pilot? If you bought a ship for us to travel in, my father would surely reimburse you - and then some, when I tell him what you did for me."

          " But you can't tell him, remember?" I said, my heart racing in a resistant fear as I imagined piloting a ship through space on my own - sure, I had practiced, but there was no way I was ready for that. " You can't tell him about the Malastarian, so you can't tell him about me."

          " Oh, I'll make something up," she said, waving her hand, " We'll say you saved me from my abusive former husband. Or something - either way, he'll know that we are in great debt to you, my sister, my _Menishkia_."

          " Menishkia," I repeated, " You said that before - what does it mean?"

          " A Menishkia means guardian angel," she said, " In our language. How I long to speak it again!"

          " You're quite a linguist," I said, " Your quick thinking in Geonosian saved us back there, more so than my blaster did."

          She clucked her tounge. " Don't be modest," she said, " But I suppose it helped - who knew that paying attention to my language tutors would someday save my life?"  

          We finished our tea, and I thought about her proposal. I wasn't confident about flying, that was for sure. But if I really wanted to, I had enough money to hire a pilot to fly us both to Ryloth . . . the very thought of leaving seemed impossible, though. What if Boba came back and I wasn't there? 

          " I'm going to go to sleep," I said, " I can make you a sort of sleeping bag here on the carpet, with some of these blankets-"

          " Oh, I couldn't sleep," she said, smiling, " I'm too happy, but also nervous - I'd like to sit up with the fire and stand guard, if that's alright."

          " Okay," I said, " My blaster is in the speeder, if you need it." I couldn't believe I was trusting this stranger to sit with a weapon in the cave while I slept - but I believed that I had good instincts about people, and Ipa would not disprove this theory. 

          I liked to think that these instincts would eventually prove me right about Boba, too. I had a strange dream about him that night - I was packing to leave for Malastare with Ipa and two of the girls I'd seen at the tavern that night, when all of a sudden Boba flew in on my speeder, wearing his armor and begging me not to go.

          In the dream, I was smug and unconcerned with his feelings. I grinned and told him that if he would take his helmet off for me, I would stay with him. He tried and tried to pull it off, but it was stuck.

          " I can't," he said, giving up, " I can't take it off." 

          " Then I guess I must go," I said. But suddenly the other girls were gone, and Boba and I were alone in the cave. The dream continued, but I never left. I made dinner, drew him a bath and put him to bed. All while he was wearing his armor - I never got to see his face. After awhile he stopped talking, and as he lay still in our bed I wondered before I woke if there was anything inside the shell anymore.

I woke in the morning to the sound of a hearth fire and the smell of meat roasting. In the moments before I'd truly regained consciousness, my senses leaped in joy - Boba must be home! Then I remembered the night before, and my Twi'lek houseguest. I opened my eyes to see Ipa humming to herself as she turned a canyon hare over the spit.

          " Hey, you made breakfast," I said, sitting and pulling myself out of bed.

          She smiled. " I guess my skills with a blaster are better than I remembered," she said, " I haven't fired a weapon in ages - but I suppose its not a skill that you can forget."

          I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and sat by the fire while she finished cooking.

          " You don't look like you eat much," she said, remarking on my weight. I sighed and wondered how close I'd come to wasting completely away - I hadn't met a single person in town the night before who hadn't made a judgement about me based on my bony limbs and hollow cheeks. " I don't understand - are you saving all of that money for something?"

          " No," I said, " I haven't got a single plan, for the money or myself. You might say that I haven't exactly been motivated to eat lately."

          Ipa said nothing for a moment, but I could see that she was concerned for her 'Menishkia'.

          " Have you thought about my offer?" she asked. " If you don't want a job working for us, you could simply come to Ryloth with me as a friend. We'll make sure you get your fill to eat, yes?"

          I thought about it - Ipa returning home to a kingdom full of Twi'leks, and a skinny little human tagging bashfully along with her. I wouldn't fit in at all, just as I wouldn't on any other planet, in any other place. What was the point in trying? I had come from nowhere, and I had nowhere to go.

          " I'm sorry," I said, accepting a plate of food and a cup of tea from her, " I can't leave. You can think me a fool if you want, but I have to wait for him."

          She seemed to want to argue with me, but she just nodded her head sadly. 

          " If you will give me a ride into the space port, then, I will go home," she said, " But I will not forget you, or what you have done for me. On each holy day I will ask the oracle in our sanctuary when I should return to you with your reward. It will tell me when you need it most." 

          I didn't believe any of this religious nonsense, but I smiled as if I did.

          Ipa and I climbed into my speeder, and I was more than relieved when it roared to life. We had both fashioned hooded cloaks out of blankets, and we pulled the hoods over our heads as we approached the Imperial capitol, just in case we were recognized by any guards.

          " Will you be able to travel safely?" I asked after we bought her a ticket on a commercial ship headed for Ryloth.

          " I'll be fine," she said, embracing me in the crowded space port. " Know that you have a friend on Ryloth, should you ever need a place to stay." She stepped back, and I saw her smile and the girlish twinkle in her eyes beneath her hood. " I will see you again, my sister," she said, before disappearing into the crowd.

          After Ipa left, I felt lonely, but also relieved - I had grown used to being alone - alone with my thoughts of Boba, with no friends full of good intentions to tell me that I was destroying myself.

          But I decided that enough was enough when it came to fasting and lying about in bed all day. I was going to start taking care of myself, eating regularly, swimming every day in the lagoon and travelling each night to the tavern.

          I promised myself that I would do the same thing Boba had done while he spent time with me on Geonosis - I would make myself strong. 

Keeping my hood pulled close around my face, I headed for the market. I left my speeder in a repair garage while I shopped for a week's worth of food - the crowd was entirely Geonosian that day, no humans or other creatures in sight. I thought about the Tavern with feelings of both anticipation and dread, the human faces there both welcoming and aggravating. Their stories about Boba both comforting and gut-wrenching.

          When my speeder had been fully serviced - and I, I felt, overcharged - I headed home. As I rode back amongst the sterile landscape, two thoughts crossed my mind - both felt like a delayed reaction to the events of the night before.

          The first was of the two guards who had been pursuing us - I wondered if they had died when their vehicle crashed into the canyon wall. It was likely - they had been following us at a very high speed, and the blast when they struck had sounded deadly. But they were Geonosians - it was possible that they would have reacted quickly enough to at least abandon the vehicle and fly safely off. If this was true, though, wouldn't they have followed us? Perhaps it was too dark, I thought. I went over the event countless times in my head - had they died, or hadn't they? And if they had - wasn't I responsible?

          Had I killed two innocent security guards who were only trying to do their job? It was a far different thing than shooting at the Malastarian - I still would have been shaken if I'd hit him, but I'd have felt much less bothered if I'd killed a kidnapper who had enslaved and beaten a girl. The guards, though - they had done nothing wrong. They didn't understand the situation fully, didn't know that I was saving a Rylothian duchess from her abductor - I hadn't even known this myself until Ipa and I returned to the cave.

          My hands were shaking by the time I landed in the speeder - was I no different than Boba, killing to get what I wanted, or what I thought was right? What I thought was justice?

          The other thing that was bothering me was the way Ipa had reacted when I told her my name was Antilles - she'd said it was a 'fine name'. I had brushed this off as an idle compliment, but she'd asked a second time if my mother's name was Antilles, and, in hindsight, she'd seemed like she was on the verge of revealing something about the name before the subject changed.

          I told myself that it couldn't be too important, if she'd let the conversation so easily shift in another direction. And anyway, whoever the Antilles were, my mother had certainly been an outcast - otherwise, why would she have gone to an orphanage for help rather than her 'fine' family? 

          Whatever the name Antilles meant on Ryloth or in the rest of the galaxy, to me it was only the name of a ghost.


	4. Chapter Four

I became a regular at the Tavern - the mysterious figure listening in the corner with a hood always pulled over her face. Each night I collected any bits of the conversation that had to do with Boba - or Luna, my competition. 

          " Looks like Jabba is still playing favorites with the Fetts," I heard a resentful hunter mutter one night, " He hasn't called me for a job since Boba started working."

          I had heard this Jabba's name mentioned in relation to Boba's several times already - apparently he was some sort of crime lord who had once relied heavily on Jango as a hired assassin.

          Luna's name didn't come up as often as I feared - and hardly ever in association with Boba's. Mostly she only surfaced in the men's muttered comments about her looks. The women were similar with Boba.

          " I saw him at Jabba's last week," a chubby purple Twi'lek girl bragged one night, " He took his helmet off and everything!"

          " Oh, liar," a human girl with stringy blonde hair muttered, " He'd never take it off in public."

          " Well it wasn't in public, if you know what I mean," the Twi'lek said, sticking her chin up. The other girls at the table exchanged a knowing look.

          " Yeah?" a woman with white eyes and pale blue skin challenged, " What'd he look like, then?"

          " Um," the Twi'lek said, raising her shoulders nervously, " Well, he had sandy brown hair, and these big, green eyes -"

          " Nice try!" the blonde said, laughing. " Everyone knows Boba Fett has _black _hair and _brown_ eyes, Chima you dummy!"

          " Well it was dark, okay?" the Twi'lek girl said, embarrassed, leaving the table.

          " Ha, like Boba'd go in for a girl like her," the blue woman said, and the other girls snickered. This was the way they were with each other - they were on the same side until one of them claimed to have been lucky enough to have spent a night with him, then she became the enemy. Much to my relief, the claims were often bogus like Chima's, but sometimes - sometimes their descriptions of him were too uncanny, their observations on his bedroom demeanor too dead-on.

          The worst was a tiny girl who couldn't have been older than seventeen, pretty with long, fair-colored hair. She came into the Tavern one night alone, looking stunned and hungry. When Eulee turned her penniless pockets away from the counter, a sympathetic waitress snuck her a bowl of broth and a glass of water for free. When the girls started in on their usual dishing about Boba, the stranger turned around in her seat, staring at them.

          " You want something, honey?" a girl I'd come to know as Tinka asked her. Tinka was the mistress of Dengar, one of the better-looking hunters, who only rarely showed up at the Tavern himself. She had dark hair that fell to her ears, and was generally more well-groomed than most of the hunter's girls.

          " You were talking about Boba Fett?" the girl asked, her big eyes curious. Tinka shrugged.

          " So what if we were?" she said, cattily.

          " I knew him," the girl said, " We parted only weeks ago, on Bog 7."

          " Bog 7?" Tinka said, looking to her friends with a raise of her thin eyebrow. Only last night they had been discussing Boba's most recent bounty collection - a scaly-faced creature who'd stolen from Jabba - on the moons of Bogden. Perhaps her story had some credence? 

          " Yes," the girl said, with a sigh, " My name is Peta. I had been travelling with him for some time, since he saved me from my father on Tatooine."

          " Tatooine," said Ryina, a former slave of Jabba's that some bold and now-dead bounty hunter had freed. She thoughtfully twirled a strand of hair around her finger. " I saw him there at Jabba's a month or so ago," I heard her whisper to Tinka. Tinka shrugged - despite her affiliation with Dengar, she was one of Boba's biggest fans, and the most reluctant to believe another woman's story of conquest.

          " So what?" she said to Ryina, " He's always there, it doesn't mean anything." She turned back to Peta. " Why would Boba Fett bother saving a kid like you?" she asked in a nasty tone.

          " I don't know," the girl said, her eyes dreamy, not really focusing on anything in particular. " He was hanging around one of the restaurants in our small town - far from Mos Eisley, none of us could believe he'd show up there. All of my friends were daring me to talk to him, and so I did."

          " And what did you talk about?" Tinka said with a snort, " Nail polish? Moisture farming?" The other girls laughed.

          " Nothing really," Peta said, " I tried to flirt with him, but he wasn't really responding. To try and grab his attention I invited him back to my bed. He didn't say anything, so I left with my friends, embarrassed."

          " Fascinating," Tinka said, feigning a yawn. " Believe it or not, you're probably not the first farm girl that got the cold shoulder from Boba Fett."

          " But that's just it," Peta said, seemingly oblivious to Tinka's teasing, " He showed up at my window that night. It was like a _dream_. I couldn't believe he remembered me."

          My stomach pinched into a nervous ball - it couldn't be true, Boba chasing after girls like her, appearing at their windows? He had never promised to be faithful to me, but even so . . .

          I thought of his face pressed to mine in our bed, the day that he left. _No matter what people say about me_, he'd whispered, _Remember me this way_. Did he know? Did he know I'd someday hear people talking about him as if he were some rouge killer and loverboy?

          " Seems unlikely," Tinka said, in her voice a bit of a loss of confidence. " But go on. I suppose he ravaged you wearing full armor? We've heard this before."

          " No, nothing like that," Peta said, " He came in and sat on the bed, and he actually seemed nervous. I was being mean and teasing, because I couldn't believe the great Boba Fett would be so timid. I asked him to take off his helmet, and he did -"

          " What did he look like, then?" Tinka, Rylina and one other girl all asked in unison, making Peta jump a bit in her seat.

          " He had dark, curly hair," she said, making my eyes threaten to overflow - with every physical trait she described correctly my heart skipped another beat. 

" Dark skin, but not very dark - pretty, like a color I'd never seen before. And brown eyes. I was surprised, I guess, how nice he looked. I thought he would be gruff, sort of dirty, and maybe a little bit older."

          Tinka had nothing to say, now. She just sat back and listened, defeated.

          " And then we - well," she said, not as crude about discussing sex as some of the other women were. She shut her eyes and raised her shoulders, smiling. " Like all the stories you hear in bars, he was incredible," she said, " He had to cover my mouth so we wouldn't wake my parents," she said, grinning, " And brace his hand against the wall so the bed wouldn't smack into it." She lowered her voice and leaned closer to the girls, who were now enthralled and didn't dare interrupt.

          " And he makes this face when he's finishing," she whispered, " Like it feels so good he can't take it, almost like it _hurts_. Oh, its unbearably sexy." 

          " I've heard that," Tinka muttered, touching her cheek, which was flushed red. A tear slid down my own cheek, which remained pale - yes, that face, I knew it well. It seemed wrong that another woman could, too.

          " Anyway," Peta said, sitting back as all of the women at the table let out their breath and returned their attention to her words rather than their fantasies. 

" After we were done he started to get up to leave, and I asked him how he could even stand after such an - experience, and wasn't he tired? He seemed to consider this for a moment, and then told me yes, maybe he'd just lie still for a bit. So he did, and I fell asleep beside him. I suppose he nodded off, too, because he was still there when I woke to the sound of footsteps up the stairs."

          We were all on the edge of our seats now, despite our jealousy.

          " It was my father," Peta said, " And the last time he'd caught me with a boy he'd beaten me so badly I thought I'd never heal. He crashed through the door, drunk and probably mistaking my room for the bathroom, but when he saw Boba he turned to fetch his rifle."

          Tinka laughed, " Obviously he didn't know who he was dealing with."

          " Yes," Peta said, " It was easy enough for Boba to escape. He retrieved his helmet and was out the window before my father returned. It was me who was left to face him - he turned the butt of the rifle to me and struck me - I thought he would kill me. Boba must have heard my screams because he returned, grabbed up my father and twisted his arm until it broke. He made up some story that I was a good friend of his, and that if my father ever hit me again he would know about it and come back to finish him off. I'm sure my father knew he was lying - Boba started to leave and I begged him to take me away, at least far enough so that my father couldn't find me."

          " And?" Tinka said, leaning forward. " He actually did?"

          " He did," Peta said, nodding, " And I was as surprised as you. I had heard he was ruthless, that he cared not for anything but money - but you know, he hasn't even been working very long now, and I think these are mostly leftover sentiments about his father." She smiled. " Though I'm sure he'd be mortified if that got out."

          Yes, I thought, he would. It made me sad that she knew him so well.

          " It was the happiest night of my life," Peta said with a sigh, " I cheered all the way to his ship as we flew through the air; he was carrying me, blasting through the night on that jetpack. I think he must have regretted bringing me as soon as we took off," she said with a sad laugh.

          " How long did he keep you around?" Tinka asked, scooting over and making a place for Peta at the girl's table. At my lonely table, I wondered if my own stories of nights spent with Boba would win me a place in their circle. But I knew I could never bear to flaunt so cheaply something that meant so much to me.

          " We traveled together for almost a month," Peta said, " We were sleeping in an inn on Bog 7 when he decided it was time for us to separate. I think he was afraid he'd become too attached to me."

          Tinka snorted, " Hon, he was probably just sick to death of dragging you around."

          " Maybe," Peta said softly, " But it was - we had just made love, and fallen asleep together on the bed. And the light through the windows was so lovely and warm - I don't think I've ever been so comfortable in my life, just sleeping naked next to him. I think it may have terrified him, that he was making himself too vulnerable." 

          The other girls at the table continued to doubt this theory, but I knew it was true. Boba was steel, he was rock hard, he killed anyone who got in his way. But under all of that his heart was as soft and warm as that 'pretty' skin of his - maybe only Peta and I knew it, but it was still true.

          The idea that Boba had shared his heart and not just his body with this girl made me miserable - but in Peta's time at the Tavern, she did bring me one moment of happiness, something that I would hold dear to me throughout all the impossibly lonely times ahead.

          " You know," she said one night, drinking with her new friends, " That Boba Fett has a great love? Some girl he's known since he was a child."

          I pulled back my hood a bit, floored at the very idea that Boba might have mentioned me to one of his companions.

          " Probably Luna," Tinka muttered, dashing my hopes. She's right, I thought - I'm the one he left behind for this childhood love; he's probably cutting out hearts all over the galaxy for his morbid princess.

          " I don't think so," Peta said, tilting her head slightly and remembering. " One night I asked him why he'd been so kind to me, and he told me I reminded him of someone that he'd hurt very badly. He said he felt guilty when he saw my face. I asked if this someone was a girl, and he didn't answer, but it was a very pregnant silence."

          " So what did he do to this chick?" Chima, who had been allowed back into the circle, asked. " He have to kill her or something?"

          " No, nothing like that," Peta said, " I asked him why he was with me and not this other girl who I so reminded him of, and he said he didn't know, couldn't explain it. I don't think he would have survived hurting Luna, and anyway, I look nothing like her. Its someone else, I'm telling you. Some dark secret."

          I glanced behind me at Peta - we did look a bit similar - the same light hair, though hers was much longer, the same dark blue eyes, hers larger and more innocent looking. We had the same slight build, though mine was growing more sturdy since I'd taken to eating right and exercising.

          " Now that I think about it," Peta said with a chuckle, " Any resemblance to this lost love was probably the only reason he gave me the time of day in the first place."

          Then still happy to justify his actions, I smiled to myself, feeling much less betrayed than I had when I'd first heard Peta's story.

Meanwhile, the men in the Tavern discussed a different aspect of Boba's life - his head count. Dengar, when he actually showed up, told the best stories - he was the most tactful with the details, leaving out the blood and guts and painting Boba as a hero to bounty hunters everywhere. Throughout the years I gathered that the two of them were casual friends, or that they at least respected each other.

Whenever Dengar mentioned Boba in peril, Tinka and I would both tense in anticipation. 

" So," he'd be saying, " He's chasing this guy through the swamp, dodging blaster fire, when from out of nowhere this taistel vine flies out of the muck and attacks him, nearly giving him a concussion -"

" Oh!" Tinka would say, squeezing Dengar's arm, " He didn't break his nose or anything did he?" Dengar would roll his eyes and tell her no, her Prince Charming's features weren't damaged in battle. Tinka would brush him off and tell him he was being ridiculous, but look relieved nonetheless.

I grew to feel like I actually knew these admirers of Boba's, though I'd never gotten up the courage to actually speak to them. I wondered what they thought of me, always sitting alone, never talking to anyone else in the bar.

The latest news about Boba wasn't the only thing I gleaned from them, though - I also overheard information about the state of the government. From what I heard, it wasn't looking good for Joe Average, but the bounty hunters were laughing all the way to the bank when it came to the crumbling of the Republic.

" Bounties are skyrocketing!" they'd say gleefully, " Have you seen the latest from the crooked Senators? Three-hundred thousand for some old guy from Naboo!"

" Naboo," another would say with a scoff, " They've got maybe two antiquated battle droids on the whole planet - security is so lax, that's like taking candy from a baby!" As the foundation of the galaxy's peace deteriorated, the hunters celebrated. And why not? What had the system ever done but persecute them as outlaws? 

Meanwhile, I was worried. I was beginning to fear that I'd be stuck on Geonosis for good once the then inevitable wars began, that security all over the galaxy would be so tight that a nobody like me wouldn't have a chance of travelling freely.

I was beginning to think about leaving.

I re-applied to the Republic's flight academy. Thinking they would remember me as a former acceptee who hadn't bothered to show up or even let them know that I was no longer interested, I did so without much hope of being accepted again.

Apparently, they were desperate for pilots - my acceptance letter arrived barely two weeks after I'd sent my application. The clone army that Boba's father had 'so greatly contributed to' (he never told me how - I assumed for a long time that he'd helped to train them, since he and Boba had lived on Kamino, where they'd been developed), was being pulled further and further from the control of the Republic to the control of the Separatists, and the Republic needed good old fashioned humans to fight for their cause.

That's the problem with clones, I would think to myself with a sadistic smirk: they've got no loyalty.

After I got my second acceptance letter, I was more reluctant to celebrate than I had been after receiving the first. I would sit at the mouth of the cave as the sun went down, drinking wine and staring at the letter. How could I go? I had no confidence, not much experience, and not a drop of devotion to the Republic.

But then, I'd think, how could I not go? There was nothing for me on Geonosis. I had once believed that nothing would be enough, but it was not. My memories of Boba were worn like the pages of a book read over and over again - I could not live off of them like I once had. My throat felt clogged with dust and spider webs, it had been such a long time since I'd had a real conversation with another person. There were certain things even an orphan who'd never had anything needed - the smile of a friend, the encouragement of a mentor, the noise of human activity.        

I set my fears aside and booked a ticket on a ship to Corasaunt. I sold my crummy speeder to a Rodian kid for fifty credits. In the condition it was in, I should have given it away, but it never hurt to make a little bit of money, and the kid seemed to think he had come across quite a bargain. I packed all of my clothes - a bundle that didn't amount to much - into Boba's old backpack, along with our canteen, the letter he'd left me, and my flashlight.

Everything else, I left behind in the cave. The day I left, I stood at the entrance and looked back at the remains of what was once our life together - the carpets, worn now from being walked on, the bed sheets that I'd folded neatly and placed at the foot of the bed, the kitchen supplies that sat cold and silent on the table. I pressed my lips together, picked up my pack, and turned from all of it.

" Goodbye, Boba!" I called as I ran, almost happy to be leaving, down the rocky terrain toward the road to town. I briefly allowed myself to imagine him returning to find me gone - but I knew, of course, that he would never have the chance. He was never coming back, and now, I decided, neither was I.

I felt free of him as I arrived in town. I walked past his father's grave site without stopping, and headed for the space port. I had left early and had plenty of time before my shuttle lifted off - I was excited this time to travel in space, and more excited to land on Corasaunt - I'd only heard stories and seen pictures of the marvelous planet that was a city. 

Of course I was conscious of the fact that Boba might be there - I wasn't sure if he'd gotten completely sidetracked from his revenge scheme or if he was just waiting for the right time to strike. 

There was a part of me, a part that couldn't let go, that was hoping I would see him. A smaller part of me even hoped that if I did he would reclaim me and take care of me again. But a place inside that was growing larger with each step away from the cave was squelching these wistful, hopeless parts, and wanted more than anything a chance to prove that I could make it on my own.

I boarded my shuttle and took my seat - the ship was crowded, packed with every species I'd ever read about, and some I hadn't. I was sitting beside an older looking creature, one of the reddish fish people like the hunter I'd seen a few times in the Tavern. He was wearing eyeglasses and nodded off only a few minutes after we cleared Geonosis's atmosphere.

As we flew away, I looked out my window and down at the planet below. It seemed like not so long ago I was watching it as Boba and I ascended toward it, wondering what our life together would be like. Short was the only word I could think of to describe it then.

But other words flooded in as Geonosis grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Happy. Exciting, comfortable, warm. I missed him, missed his confident voice and his more confident touch, and felt angry that he was squandering it away on girls like Peta. 

I'll find someone else, I thought, a sudden and very alien idea that my brain nearly rejected upon formation. I couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of man I'd want if it wasn't Boba. All my dreams for the future just led back to his face.

 It was easy not to look for someone else at the Academy - the atmosphere was not conducive to romance. At this point, anyone who wasn't deathly serious about fighting the threat that the Separatists presented had joined their more optimistic movement or had turned an apathetic cheek.

          Except me, who was just looking for a place, any place, to fit in. And I suppose I did, well enough; no one seemed to suspect that there was no passion behind my flight, my training, my preparations for war.

          My days passed much as they had at the orphanage - everything was again gray. Uniforms, boots, bunks, lunch trays. The lights in our humble quarters came on at sunrise, and we removed ourselves quickly from slumber like well-programmed droids. I grew so accustomed to waking at the same time each day that my body would startle itself awake even before the lights and morning alarms glared on in the room. 

          The days of idly waking in mid-afternoon were long over. Sometimes I would let myself return to them in daydreams - coming to slowly and letting my eyes adjust to the sun through the mouth of the cave, rolling over and gently waking Boba. I'd try to conjure up the memory of his mouth, his skin on mine, his arms around me in our bed - but it had been so long, and doing so was almost painful. I taught myself not to dwell on the past.

          I would dress with the other girls in my bunk, all of us in the same clothes, nearly the same sizes. I remember the uncanny way we would all zip up our boots at the same moment - the startling sound of humans moving in efficient unison. Each of us braided our hair at the beginning of the week and washed it at the end of the week. My two sets of neat braids were always pinned tightly to my head - the sharp feeling of my scalp being stretched to its limits kept me alert, I believed.

          We would have a quick breakfast in the commons - usually there wasn't much talk in the mornings. We were mostly just children - all secretly exhausted but pretending that we were capable and ready for the conflict to begin at any moment. I still remember the non-taste of the grain blocks they served for breakfast - I told myself it was practical, healthy. I grew to not even notice the absence of taste - it was just matter in my mouth, nutrition grinded by my teeth.

          Training with the flight simulators and Republic ships was the best part of any day - I had become at least a competent pilot in my first few months at the academy. I felt so proud on the first day my commander let me fly one of the brand new X-Wings in a routine orbit. So responsible that I ignored my desire to just break orbit and take off into space, to become a drifter again and at least make my own rules. But I had lived that way before - and as much as I sometimes craved it, I knew it would not bring me any more happiness than service in the Army had, and at least while I was working for the Republic I had some sense of purpose.

          What that purpose was on a grand level was easy: the preservation of democracy. On a personal level, the question of purpose was harder to answer. What did I care about democracy? What had the government, the Republic, the galaxy ever done for me?

          But I stayed. I took comfort in the fact that I was learning a trade - I was becoming a real pilot. Flying eventually lost its novelty and felt more like a job, but I didn't let that bother me. I was nearly past my training period and almost ready to go on missions with the real combatants. The war hadn't actually begun yet, but there was a lot of scouting to do - setting up bases, unofficially claiming territory. It could be dangerous - the Separatists didn't play fair, never had, and you couldn't count on a diplomatic resolution if there was a conflict of interest.

          I was about a month from completing my training when a new batch of soldiers arrived from a base on Dantooine - they were older than most of us trainees, and had been working under harsher conditions. I found most of them - especially the boys - rather cocky.

          There was one in particular - Darren - who gave me a hard time. I had gone through this with some of the other 'dominant males' in my squads before - because I was a small female with blue eyes and blonde hair, they assumed I didn't belong. I tried my best to prove them wrong, but I was too afraid they were right to really have an effect. I had allowed most of them to brush me off as a little girl in over her head, but Darren really got under my skin.

          " Hey!" he shouted at me one day when we were assigned to do an asteroid field navigation exercise together. " What do you think you're doing?" I looked up at him, confused.

          " I'm blasting the asteroids out of the way," I said, not understanding how he could have a problem with this - it was how we had always done the program in the past. Get through the ones you can, but if you get in a tight spot, blast them, of course.

          " You're wasting precious missiles on asteroids?" he fumed, " What happens when we get through the field and have to face the enemy's ships - we'll have no ammunition left!" 

          " Well what difference will it make if we let the asteroids smash into us before we get to the enemies?" I asked, surprised with my own boldness - he was an officer, and I was still in training. He outranked me by a million miles, but only for a month longer.

          " If you were a better pilot," he said, narrowing his eyes at me, " You wouldn't have to use missiles to get through the asteroids - you could maneuver around them."

          " Sorry," I said, defeated - he was right, of course. " But this is the way we've always done it," I looked to Nate, my partner on the training course, to back me up. He just stared at his hands.

          " Well now we're changing the way you've always done it," Darren told me. 

" You'll get through this course without firing a single blast before you're promoted." I looked up at him like he was crazy.

          " You can't make a decision like that!" I said with a scoff. " I'll try my best, but the conditions for promotion won't change just because you think they should." 

          " Well, we'll see," he said with a smirk, walking off. 

          " Are you nuts?" Nate hissed after he'd gone. " You can't talk to him like that!"

          " Hey, c'mon," I said, " We're practically officers, too. And he was being a jerk! He can't just step in here and tell us how to do things."

          " He's no ordinary officer," Nate told me, " He's Lars Bentley's son - he led the effort on Dantooine." 

          I sighed - Lars was our chief commander on Corasaunt. I had heard stories about his son, a talented soldier and born leader. Personally I had envisioned someone a bit more charming and stately than the wormy Darren, however.

          Sure enough, because of Darren's pull with his dad, the rules were changed, and all of the trainees had to complete the advanced level asteroid simulation unarmed before they could graduate to officer. Naturally, because of Nate's big mouth, I was blamed for this, and became even less popular than my build and hair color had caused me to be.

Because I didn't have any friends at the Academy, my free time on weekends was mostly spent wandering Corasaunt alone. I didn't mind so much - there was plenty to do. Maybe out of a foolish hope that Boba might be lurking there, I even took the public tour of the Jedi Academy.

          That was the day I met the tall, dark Jedi Mace Windu. I saw him in passing as we walked on our tour through the archives in the basement of the Jedi Council's headquarters - he glanced up and met my eye as I was giving him the distasteful stare I gave all Jedi, thanks to Boba's warnings against them.

          Without thinking much of it, I continued on the tour - it was rather dull, and the few Jedi we saw on the tour looked bored and placated - or, as our tour guide had told us, "in a constant state of tranquil meditation." 

Of course the only Jedi any of us really wanted to hear about was the one who'd been making the papers - Anakin Skywalker, the talented young man who was rumored to have defected to the Sith, allies of the Separatists and some sort of antithesis to the Jedi.

 Nothing was mentioned of Skywalker, and when a young boy in our group raised his hand to ask about him when the floor was opened for questions at the end of the tour, our padawan tour guide snapped something in his direction about Skywalker no longer being associated with the Jedi Council before he could even ask his question out loud. The boy's face turned red - it rather perturbed me that our guide had read his thoughts - had he been reading mine all along, all my resentment toward the Jedi seeping out through my aura?

Nervous, I decided to slip out early, and headed for the exit doors, back out onto the lower level of Corasaunt. I was just starting to think about where I might go for lunch when I heard a voice call my name.

" Ms. Antilles?" I turned to see a Jedi standing at the exit, his head tilted slightly as he gazed a me, curious. He looked calm, but not as passive as most of the Jedi I'd seen that day. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, and yet he had the manner of someone who was prepared to jump into action at any moment. He was the dark-skinned Jedi I'd seen in the archives, I realized.

" How do you know my name?" I asked, wondering if they did retinal scans at the entrance to the Council's headquarters. It was the sort of invasion of privacy that the Republic's supporters were trying to outlaw - and I knew the Jedi were strongly linked with the Republic . . .

" I knew your father," he said, walking to me with a warm smile that I didn't trust. He extended a hand, but I stood still, frowning.

" That's funny, since I've never had one," I said, automatically defensive.

" I'm afraid you never had the chance to meet him," he said, " But I assure you, Ms. Antilles, you did have a father."

" How would you know?" I asked, my heart racing - I wasn't sure I was ready to find out about my family, my past - especially if it included affiliation with the Jedi. " Get out of my head, please," I said, covering my ears as if to block his intrusion. He laughed.

" I was actually quite happy to find that your mind is too strong to be invaded by even me," he said, " When I saw you today, I recognized you by sight and sense, not by reading your thoughts."

" I don't understand," I said, " How can you recognize me by sight - I'm sure I've never seen a Jedi in my life before today. I was raised in an orphanage on Corinth, far from any conflict the Jedi might have presided over."

" The two of us have never met before," he explained, " But in you I recognize the resemblance to your mother. And you have your father's - skepticism when it comes to strangers." He smiled.

" You knew my mother, too?" I said, my knees shaking. I had always assumed my mother was a vagabond, a human tumbleweed who had slipped up and gotten pregnant. To think that she'd been in the company of a Jedi was dizzying.

 " Perhaps we should go somewhere more private and talk," he said. 

" No place private," I said, lifting my chin and pretending that I wasn't terrified - the idea of my parents as concrete people and not just dreamed images of failure and disappointment was unsettling somehow. " I don't trust Jedi," I told him.

He looked genuinely concerned. " Why not?" he asked.

" I had a friend who suffered a great loss at the hands of a Jedi," I said, not wanting to reveal too much. Part of me was also afraid to learn the truth about Jango and why he was killed. 

He sighed, and looked to the ground before regaining his composure and continuing. " Sadly," he said, " Some in our order have turned to the dark side of the force during the trying times we've faced in the last ten years."

" Oh, so you'll admit it?" I asked, being nasty to him for Boba's sake. " No one seems to want to talk about Anakin Skywalker these days." The man's eyes grew dark at the mention of Skywalker's name.

" Skywalker is not a sore subject for me," he said, " If you distrust the Jedi Order because of his actions -"

" I don't believe what he's done has been disclosed exactly," I cut in.

" Then you should know," he continued, " That I was one of the principal objectors to his acceptance into the Academy. Please, Ms. Antilles. Don't turn me away - I couldn't bear to think that you might go through life not knowing how grand your parents were when they were alive."

My resolve cracked, and my eyes threatened to fill, but I pushed my emotions aside - something that had become easier since my months spent going through the motions at the Flight Academy.

" So they're both dead then," I said, my voice losing its bitter edge, " My father, too." He nodded gravely.

" He died honorably, as your mother did, in her own way," he said. " If you like, we could trade what information we know, and try to put together the pieces of what happened to them."

" Alright," I said, sniffling and squaring my shoulders. " But in a _public_ place, if you don't mind." 

He smiled. " I don't believe I've told you my name," he said. " Mace Windu."

This time, I shook his hand. I had no idea who he was then, and wouldn't for a long time. Just someone who had known my parents, someone who happened to be a Jedi Master. 

The stars of my fate moved cruelly that day, and I didn't even know it - that I was shaking hands with Jango Fett's killer. That, so far away from him, I had managed to find myself in the exact place where Boba would have most liked to be standing.


	5. Chapter Five

Mace and I went to a small diner on the lower levels and we each ordered a cup of Jawa juice - I had been hungry before we spoke, but his words had caused my appetite to slip away. I sat and nervously turned my cup, afraid to meet his eyes. He had a very intense gaze, and the knowledge he'd promised was something I wasn't sure I was ready for.

          " Callia," he said, for by then he had learned my name, too. My name - and my mother's name. When he knew that I had been named for her, I was sure that he had indeed known my parents, that he was telling the truth. I looked up.

          " How did you know my parents?" I asked quietly, bracing myself. I felt as if I was about to witness both of their deaths - that I would then truly have to let any hope of belonging somewhere go. In my childhood dreams I had envisioned a tall, handsome father who would come and save me from the ranks of unwanted children, take me back to his palace in the clouds and tell me that the people at the orphanage were kidnappers who had lied to me - that my mother was actually alive and waiting for me at home. And then I would see her standing on the landing pad as we arrived, jump out and run to her arms - she was always very beautiful, in my daydreams, and teary-eyed at the sight of her long lost daughter.

          Of course these dreams had faded with the years, but the little girl inside of me who had kept them alive mourned their loss on the day I learned the truth.

          " Your father was Corellian," Mace began. " I see that you are wearing the crest of the Republic's flight academy," he said, nodding to my uniforms. He smiled, " Your father was also a pilot." 

          I had to put my head in my hands to steady myself - so this was where all my dreams of flying had come from? Could aspirations be inherited like hair color?

          " What did he look like?" I asked, raising my head.

          " He had dark blue eyes like yours," Mace remembered, " But his hair was very dark - black. Your mother - except for her brown eyes - was your spitting image." He shook his head. " Sometimes one must really marvel at genetics."

          I thought of Boba and his alleged resemblance to Jango - _he's like Jango back from the dead_, one of the hunters at the Tavern had said. Was it our shared fate to become the parents we so resembled? 

          " Your mother," he continued when I said nothing, " Was from Alderran - you'll find plenty of Antilles, there," he said, " It's a common name - I can even think of a few prominent politicians named Antilles," he told me, explaining why Ipa had reacted the way she had when I told her my name.

          " Her family was honorable but poor, and she had never been off of Alderran before she met your father," he said. " Your father, on the other hand, came from a very prominent Corellian family. He joined the army when he finished school, and traveled to many planets on duty, Alderran among them. Your mother's family worked in shoe repair - they met while he was having a pair of boots mended." I couldn't help but return his smile when he said this. 

          " She was very beautiful, and while he was stationed on Alderran, your father courted her. This was all before I met him, so I'm afraid I can't tell you any details," he apologized. I shrugged, though inwardly I would have liked to hear about this happier part of their lives. Being a Jedi, I suspected Mace had more to do with their demise than their courtship and marriage.

          " How did you come to meet them?" I asked, taking a small sip of my juice. My stomach didn't feel as if it could handle much more than that.

          " After they married, your father was promoted to Special Services and stationed on Corusaunt," Mace explained. " He was assigned to pilot myself and another Jedi to a diplomatic mission on Bog 9 - there was a local dispute that some of us feared involved the Sith, and so myself and another Jedi went to survey the situation." He paused for a weighty moment, his eyes shifting from mine. " You may know my former partner on that mission now as Count Dooku."

          " Dooku," I muttered, a chill moving through me - it was a name I had heard often at the Academy. " Isn't he the leader of the Separatist movement?" 

          " One of them," Mace answered dubiously. " Of course we didn't realize his eventual intentions at the time, or even when he asked to leave the Order. Dooku was and is a powerful Jedi, and was able to cloak his true motives well."

          I held back a scoff - what good was the famous Jedi intuition if it was so easily confused by the most dangerous enemy - their own kind?

          " So Dooku killed my father?" I asked, a rage growing inside me.

          " Not then," Mace told me, in his voice a gentle apology. " And even later, not by his own hand. But, yes, he was eventually responsible for your father's death."

          The first hints of tears crept into my eyes and though I knew he was not to blame, I had the urge to throw my remaining Jawa Juice into Mace's kind face. So a Jedi had destroyed my father, too. I longed for Boba then - I wanted to weep at his feet, tell him he was right, he was right.

          " Would you like me to go on?" Mace asked, sensing that I was becoming upset, maybe even hostile. I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice.

          " During this mission," he continued. " Your father took me aside and asked me if I knew that Dooku left his quarters on the ship late at night to communicate on the holovid. I told him I was not aware of this, and asked him if he had noticed who Dooku had been speaking to. He said he had not, but that he could give me a record of the holovid calls that were made during the trip once we returned to Corasaunt."

          " And Dooku overheard?" I asked, my voice small.

          " He must have," Mace said. " I was curious about these holovid conversations he was having, but problems with the ship the next day on our return took these thoughts from me."

          " What happened?" I asked.

          " There was a great explosion," Mace continued explaining, " On the starboard side of the ship. Within moments the entire ship was on fire, and we were going down in flames. I began the meditative trance a Jedi enters when he knows death is certain - but it was not yet my time. Your father was somehow able to land the ship - I'll never know how, I doubt even the best Jedi pilots could pull off a maneuver like that in such conditions."

          " Even Anakin Skywalker?" I teased, feeling proud of my father. I saw the slightest hint of a smile on Mace's face, but it was quickly gone.

          " Once we landed," he said, " We were able to abandon the craft before it was completely destroyed by the flames. So, in making that emergency landing, your father saved not only my life, but Dooku's as well."

          " I don't understand, then," I said, " How could he kill my father if he saved his life?"

          " For Dooku, protecting his plans and the identity of the person he spoke to on the holovid was more important than the tremendous debt he owed your father," Mace said. " He did not even risk personally going after your father," Mace told me, " He hired a bounty hunter to do it."

          I had been anticipating a weighty conversation, but those words made the floor drop out from beneath my feet - I lost my breath, and slid drunkenly from the booth as they sunk in. Mace frowned and watched me with his calm stare as I fumbled from our table.

          " Ms. Antilles?" he said, " What's wrong?"

          " I have to get some air," I choked out, stumbling toward the door of the diner and crashing into a large, hairy creature on the way out. It growled at me, annoyed, but I didn't care - I had broken out into a cold sweat - was it possible?

          Was it possible that Boba's father had been hired to kill mine?

          As Mace made his way out of the diner, I tried to put the pieces together. Boba had said Jango was killed by Jedi while working for a diplomat. Would he consider Dooku a diplomat? Dooku was certainly someone who, around the time of Jango's death, would have been a great enemy to the Jedi.

          " Are you alright?" Mace asked me, standing beside me outside. In the clear light of day that streamed down to the lower levels through the mammoth buildings that clogged the planet, my breath returned to me, but my heart was still pounding in my ears.

          " I'm sorry," I muttered, " It's a lot to take in." I could never explain to him my dilemma - that even if it hadn't been Jango himself, the inadvertent fondness I'd come to feel for bounty hunters was forever destroyed, and I felt completely betrayed by my own foolish notion of having understood them, my own naïve compassion and allowances for what they did.  

          " Perhaps we could meet another time," he suggested, " And I could tell you - the rest." I knew what the rest meant - the end of my parents' lives. I shook my head.

          " No," I said, " I need to hear this now."

          " Fine," Mace said with an understanding nod. " Then we will return to the Jedi Council's headquarters, where we can find peace in one of the gardens - it was irresponsible of me to lay something like this on you in such a place," he glanced back at the bustling diner. " I should have known my words would choke the air easily from such a room - I'm sorry. Will you join me in a calmer setting?"

          I nodded - by then I trusted him, and I would have gone even if I didn't. I simply had to know.

          When we reached the Council's headquarters, the sun had risen high in the dull city sky - it was already mid-afternoon. We entered the giant building and almost immediately a padawan jogged over and begged Mace's attention.

          " I'm sorry Edward," he said, " But I have a rather pressing appointment with his young lady here." He gestured to me and I was flattered - put aside official Jedi business to chat with the daughter of an old friend? He must feel so indebted to my father, I realized, for saving his life. I wondered if it was terribly embarrassing for a Jedi to be rescued by a lay person - especially since years had passed before he'd realized that Dooku had been deliberately surpressing his senses.

          " But Master Windu," the padawan said, respectful but insistent, " It is Master Yoda who calls on you, and he tells me it's a matter of great importance." He gave Mace a look that conveyed a name: Skywalker. Mace turned to me as I sensed this and frowned, and I almost wanted to apologize for having guessed correctly.

          " Alright," Mace said with a great sigh, " But Edward, if you would, please take Ms. Antilles here to the Water Garden on the fourth floor." He turned to me. " I won't be long," he said.

          " Take your time," I said, my emotions settling in the peaceful environment of the Jedi headquarters. Everything inside the building seemed so respectful and clean - as if dust wouldn't dare settle on the habitat of Jedi. " You've been so kind and patient with me - I can wait a bit."

          " I'll join you shortly, then," he said, walking off. I looked to the padawan, Edward. He watched Mace go, and then glanced back at me.

          " Would it be rude if I asked what business you have with Master Windu?" he asked.

          " Yes," I answered. He half-smiled and flicked his head toward the elevator. 

          " The garden is this way," he said, and I followed him. He had the typical padawan haircut - awfully dorky, I'd always thought, that braid was just begging to be tugged on by a bully. And the Jedi trainees always looked a bit susceptible to the teasing of bullies - maybe it was their outwardly placid demeanor, but they seemed like sissy boys. I giggled inwardly at my thoughts, knowing they were only the product of Boba's many lectures about the worthlessness of their kind.

          " Is something funny?" Edward asked as we rode the elevator up to the fourth floor. I shook my head and looked at my feet. It was rude of me - I did respect what he had dedicated his life to, this boy - peace before lightsaber duels, but duels before injustice. He wasn't tall - barely taller than me - had ghostly pale skin and fine dark hair. He looked like such a boy - the bulge of the lightsaber at his hip was a striking contrast to his young face and nervous stature.

          " So you're in the military," he said, when we stepped off onto the fourth floor. " Is that the crest of the flight school?"

          " Yes," I said, " I've almost graduated."

          He nodded, " Me too," he said, " From my training, that is."

          " Really?" I said, surprised, " But you look so young." I would have bitten my tongue with anyone else, but I was not afraid to offend a Jedi - especially this padawan.

          " Yes," he said, his face growing somber, " They're moving us along more quickly in our training now. To prepare for -"

          " The war," I said.

          " The threat of war," he corrected pompously.

          " The war is inevitable," I told him, my tone equally grandiose.

          He looked at me like he was disappointed. " There is always hope," he said. We reached a pair of glass doors that looked in on what looked like a brilliant array of natural waterfalls. He pressed a pad near the doors and they slid open gracefully, the sound of water rushing toward us as we entered. 

          " Its beautiful," I said, forgetting my politics for a moment as I glanced around. The walls of the room were scuplted to look like natural rock formations, and waterfalls, large and small, were tumbling down from their crests into sparkling ponds and a small creek. In the middle of the room there was a beautiful tiled pool, complete with an ornate fountain rising from the center. On the wall that faced the outside of the building there was a gigantic window, through which streamed in sunbeams of a deep yellow - the sun was just beginning to sink outside.

 The sound of the rushing water was incredibly soothing. I took a seat in a garden area filled with small blue flowers, and Edward stood awkwardly beside me, his hands clasped behind his back.

          " Thank you for showing me the way," I said. " It was nice to meet you," I added, when he didn't take the hint, that I wanted to be alone in that peaceful place.

          " Perhaps I'll wait with you," he said, " I don't have class for another hour." I rolled my eyes while his were on the clear water cascading from the walls.

          " You don't care for the Jedi, do you?" he asked, not looking at me, for which I was grateful since my cheeks burned quickly red. Caught, I thought. I couldn't let my guard down around these super-sensitive aura readers, I kept forgetting.

          " Its not that I don't care for them," I said with a sigh, " Its hard to explain. Maybe if you prod further into my mind you can understand, hmm?" I jabbed.

          He looked at me. " I wasn't reading your thoughts," he said, " I'm nowhere near that powerful yet. Its just a feeling I get from you. Plus," he added, " I saw you roll your eyes."

          " Oh," I muttered, embarrassed.

          " A lot of people are becoming skeptical about the usefulness of the Jedi Order these days," he said, " Those who are defecting to the dark side have given us a bad name."

          " Skywalker," I said, wondering why they were all so reluctant to come out and say it.

          Edward looked at me, perturbed but almost scared at the same time. " I'm not supposed to talk about him," he said, his voice low.

          Bored with his obedience, I looked away, and wondered what else the Jedi were keeping from the public's knowledge. Had they secreted away news about a break-in, an attempted assassination? Or a successful one? Would they have punished the intruder privately and not have breathed a word about the lapse in their security? Would it be better to be punished by Jedi than by the government - or worse? I shuddered - I believed that I would know if something had happened to Boba, know it in my soul if not my mind. But, after all - I was no Jedi.

          " Hmm," I said, an idea forming. " This seems like such a safe place . . ."

          " It is," Edward quickly assured me. " The Jedi Council headquarters is the safest place in the galaxy."

          " Is that so," I muttered, pretending to be only casually interested, " You've never had problems with outsiders? I know that the Jedi are peaceful, but they are still very political, and you must have enemies."

          " I don't deny that," Edward muttered, " But I have complete confidence in our security here."

          " Really," I said, remembering something I'd heard when I was a girl on Corinth, in the newspapers or in idle gossip I couldn't recall. " I heard there was an assassination attempt here at one time, years ago."

          Edward frowned. " I'm not supposed to talk about her, either," he muttered. When I scoffed, he gave in: " Well," he said, " While we were hosting a senator, yes. A bounty hunter was sent after her by a political advisory - it would have happened whether she was at the Council's headquarters or not, but because she was here we managed to stop it, and the bounty hunter was apprehended."

          I had to remind myself that this had all happened almost ten years ago as my heart rate increased - the players in the story just seemed a little too familiar. 

          " And killed?" I asked of the bounty hunter. Edward's face changed - he seemed newly annoyed by my questioning.

          " Not by a Jedi, I heard," he said. 

          " Sure," I muttered in return. 

          " Would you object to a murderer's death?" he asked. 

          " The hunter was just doing his job," I said, surprised at my words - I regretted them as soon I heard them leave my lips. Edward blanched.

          " It is a dishonorable career," he said, giving me a strange look.

          " Why?" I asked, my mind trying to tell my mouth to shut up, but unable to stop myself, " Because they are told who to kill, and rewarded for it? How different are the Jedi?"

          " We are at least instructed to avoid violence whenever possible!" Edward said, trying to keep his cool, but slipping.

          " So are they, if their bounty is wanted alive," I snapped almost inadvertently. Edward let the argument drop there, and I immediately felt ashamed of what I'd said - a bounty hunter had killed my own father, and I was still defending their trade. I was disgusted with myself. 

          " Forgive me for speaking so candidly," I said, looking at my feet. " You are free to think me naïve, of course."

          " You may think the same of me," Edward said, more composed now - he must have meditated in his silence, I thought, resisting another roll of my eyes. 

" After all," he said, " The Jedi Academy is all I have known since I was six years old - perhaps I am biased. Only a fool rejects the opportunity to look at something from a different point of view and consider both alternatives." 

" Well said, Edward," Mace said suddenly, and we both looked up in surprise to find him standing at the foot of the small garden.

" Master Windu -" he began, taken by surprise. " I'm sorry for keeping your guest -"

" Don't apologize," Mace said with a warm smile, " I was enjoying your debate." 

" Yes," Edward said, his pale skin reddening under the Jedi Master's gaze, 

" So was I." He glanced back at me and I looked away, annoyed - was he trying to flirt with me?

" Now," Mace said, taking a seat on a bench opposite the one I sat on, while I burned with embarrassment at the idea that he had heard my impassioned argument for the innocence of bounty hunters. " I have a promise to keep to Ms. Antilles, and, Edward, I believe you have navigation class?" 

" Yes, Master," he said with a nod, turning to leave. " It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Antilles," he called over his shoulder as he trotted off. I turned back to Mace, who was grinning.

" He seems a bit taken with you," he said.

" I don't know why," I said, shaking my head. " I've just made an incredible fool of myself."

" How so?" Mace asked, frowning.

" Didn't you hear me?" I asked, " It was as if I was forgiving the man who murdered my father."

" And that's a bad thing?" Mace asked. " The ability to forgive ones' enemies is a quality only the noblest of the Jedi Master truly posses."

" Well I have no aspirations to become a Jedi Master," I said, my eyes filling, " I only want to honor my father's memory."

" So you have," Mace said, " By letting your anger for the man who took him from you go."

" I'm not sure I have exactly," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. It wasn't that simple. 

Mace leaned forward a bit, studying me. " I sense a great conflict in you," he said, " Perhaps you need to hear the rest of the story."

" Yes," I said, looking up at him, " Please."

" During the mission, and after your father saved my life," he began again, " We became friends. While we were away, he spoke fondly of his life on Corasaunt - he often said he'd rather live in a more natural place, but that anyplace where his wife would follow him was good enough." He smiled, " He truly loved your mother, and I do believe he ached for each day that he was away from her." 

I know how he felt, I thought, thinking of my time spent in the cave on Geonosis, after Boba left. Nothing but hard rock walls and all the softness you knew so far away.

" What was he like?" I asked, my voice low and careful not to break into tears again, " Besides a loving husband."

" He was shrewd and courageous," Mace told me, " Not many, in those days, were bold enough to question the actions of a Jedi."

I wanted Mace to tell me everything, things I was sure he didn't know - what was his favorite color? Did he love flying, or was it just a job to him? Did he want children - did he know about the pregnancy - had he anticipated me with baited breath before he was killed?

This last question, I realized, he may be able to answer. But would he tell me the truth? I hoped he wasn't sugar-coating my father's memory for my sake.

" Tell me about his bad qualities," I said quickly, before really considering whether I wanted to know them or not, " He won't seem real if I only know his merits."

" Well," Mace said, " He did pick his teeth after eating, which I found to be rather rude." I laughed. " And he could be rather commanding - perhaps it was only my pride as a Jedi that took offense to this, but he liked to be the one calling the shots." Mace chuckled to himself, " I think he sometimes believed me to be a bumbling philosopher more than a light-saber wielding defender of the galaxy, to tell you the truth."

Hmm, I thought to myself, I couldn't agree more, Dad. The tears I'd been trying to fight down returned as I thought of all I'd missed with him - not least of all the chance to poke fun of the Jedi together. I imagined my mother in the background, shaking her head at us and trying not to smile.

" And my mother," I said, sniffling, " You did say you eventually met her?"

" Yes," Mace said, " I was fortunate enough to be able to spend some time with them on Corasaunt before Dooku made his move. He knew that if he acted too quickly I would become suspicious, but he must have been watching us closely, waiting for the subject of his late night holovid conversations to be again broached. But, when he returned, your father learned of your mother's pregnancy, and this was an ample distraction."

Mace smiled, " I remember when he came to visit me at headquarters, wearing his dress uniform with all the bells and whistles - we presented him with a medal for helping to bring home a pair of Jedi safely. He invited me on the day of his medal presentation to a dinner he and his wife were having in honor of his return - and also to officially announce the forthcoming addition to the family - you, his unborn daughter."

I found it hard to believe that I had ever existed at the same time as my parents - even as a clump of cells with a mouse's beating heart. I couldn't conceive of a time when the two universes we'd lived in - barely missing each other - had been one.

" So you met my mother on the night of the dinner?" I asked, even more timid with her memory than I had been with my father's.

" I did," Mace said with a nod, " She was like a newborn star - glowing as if she were the brightest in the sky. It was the news of her coming child that had her in such good spirits - though she never got to meet you, you were still the happiest thing in her life."

" No," I said, shaking my head, the tears flowing freely, " I was the worst thing in her life - I was her death."

Mace shook his head. " How can you say this?" he said, " Dooku was her killer, not you." I looked up at him with a teary grimace.

" Didn't you know?" I choked out, " She died of complications during childbirth." Mace's eyes fell.

" Yes," he said softly, " Complications brought on by the malnorishment of her broken heart  last days of her life. She would have passed whether she was in labor or not, and the mere fact that she was able to hold on long enough to conceive is a miracle." 

" What?" I said, wiping away handfuls of tears.

" Dooku had waited almost six months to send his assassin," Mace explained, " So the murder would not be easily connected with the incident on the moons of Bogden. The bounty hunter's job was simple – he attached an explosive to your father's ship, and when he turned on the engines the next day, his life was over, and the records of Dooku's holovid calls were destroyed."

" But no one knew that it was Dooku who had done it?" I asked, my voice weak.

Mace shook his head. " The hunter who destroyed his ship did a good job of making it look like an accident, and it was only years later, when Dooku revealed himself as a traitor, that I realized Dooku must have been involved. At the time he was just leaving the Order, and we all assumed he was seeking quiet retirement, not political upheaval.

          " And my mother?" I asked, unable to look at him, my head in my hands.

          " She could not handle your father's death," Mace told me. " She was young, and almost nine months pregnant. His family, who had frowned on his marriage to a common girl, would not support her, and she knew that her own family, though willing, would not be able to afford another mouth to feed. Distraught, she left the planet. I assume she had this orphanage in mind when she departed. It does not surprise me that she died shortly after you were born – when I saw her at your father's funeral she was already a hollow shell, destroyed by his death."

          " Mace?" I squeaked, my voice tired from having spoken more in one day than I had in a long time. " Could we please stop here? I don't think - I don't think I can hear anymore today." 

          His face fell. " Forgive me," he said, " I'm afraid I'm used to being rather insensitive - it is the way of the Jedi, trained not to let our emotions get in the way. I should not have spoken so plainly -"

          " No," I said, " I thank you for your honesty. I wanted to know what happened to my parents, and now I do. Dooku murdered them, destroyed their lives." I stood up to leave.

          " Callia," he said, standing, " I can't tell you how much it pleases me that we were able to meet - when I saw you on the tour this morning your resemblance to your mother struck me, and I could hardly believe what my senses were telling me until my eyes fell on the name Antilles on your uniform - that you were the adult daughter of my old friends, alive and perfectly healthy. It means that my friends did not die in vain - their souls are surely resting in peace because of your well-being. I hope you will be able to take some comfort in the fact that you inherited the genes of two very strong people."

          I nodded; I didn't know what else to say. I felt proud that I'd come from what had once been a loving family and not from the drifting loser that I'd once imagined my mother to be. At the same time I felt newly cheated - if only they'd lived, my whole life would have been different. I freshly understood Boba's drive to find his father's killer, though I knew I could never be so bold. What hope did I have of vanquishing Count Dooku? 

          " I find it interesting that you have chosen your father's profession," Mace said as we left the water garden and headed for the elevators, " Also interesting that, as a member of the Republic's Army, you will be fighting against Dooku and his cause. I'm sure you are marveling at this, too - the clarity of the choices you made, before you even knew that your father was a pilot or that one of the Separatist's leaders personally wronged your family."

          " It is a coincidence," I said, " A happy one," I added, trying not to sound too pessimistic. 

          " Some people believe that each of us has a destiny," Mace said, " If I ever saw proof of this theory I believe you might be it." We boarded the elevators and rode down to the first floor - I thought about destiny. My ambition for flight, Boba's eagerness to climb into his father's armor. 

          " Do you subscribe to this theory?" I asked him. He tilted his head thoughtfully.

          " I'm not sure," Mace said, " Not long ago many of the Jedi did, when we were searching for the one who would bring balance to the force."

          " I heard that it was once believed that Skywalker would be the one," I said, the conversation turning again to the forbidden subject. " Have the Jedi rejected the idea of destiny now that he has disappointed them?" I asked boldly.

          " We're not sure he's disappointed us yet," Mace said without looking at me, and the elevator doors slid open. We walked to the front entrance, and through the enormous glass doors I could see that the sun sinking in the sky. Mace and I stepped out and looked up between the skyscrapers at the sinking orange ball.

          " I hope it was nothing too serious," I said, " When you were called away by Master Yoda before."

          Mace shook his head. " No wars have begun today," he answered.

          " Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't fear the coming war," I said, realizing it only as the words left my lips. Mace gave me a concerned look.

          " And why don't you?" he asked.

          " I have nothing to loose," I admitted. " My parents' souls might not be so completely appeased as you might think, I'm afraid. Their daughter has wasted her life."

          " How can you say this?" Mace asked, " You are fighting for a cause they would certainly believe in - your career as a pilot would make your father very proud - and it should make you very proud of yourself, as well."

          " You wouldn't understand," I said, shaking my head, not really wanting to explain to a stuffy Jedi Master how empty my life had felt since I'd lost my bounty hunter lover. " And anyway," I added, " It doesn't matter. I don't believe in souls."

          Mace smiled. " Well," he said, " As I was explaining before - beliefs about these sort of things do change."

          I thanked him again for taking the time to tell me about my parents, and he invited me to come back to the headquarters sometime and visit him.

          Yeah right, I thought as I walked away, but then I thought about how lonely I'd been for all the months I'd been in training - it wouldn't hurt to have a friend, even if he was a Jedi.

          When I got back to the Academy, after checking in I immediately headed for the deserted asteroid field simulator. The training computers were all quiet and unused - the other candidates were out at the cities' bars having fun with their friends, or in the residential areas of the planet, visiting family.

          I didn't have any friends. I didn't have any family - and now I knew who had taken them from me. 

          I sat down at one of the computers and booted up the asteroid field simulation on the most difficult level. I set my ammunition levels at zero.

          It took me all night to clear the course with no gun power, and by the wee hours of the morning I was going on eighteen hours with no food, six hours straight of having asteroids bombarded at me while I thought of Dooku's smug face, my father's last breath with a bounty hunter's pistol to his forehead, my mother's tearstained cheeks as she ran, ran, ran though it was impossible. 

          By the time the sun came up, I was in such a trance that I barely knew the asteroid field I was navigating was a simulation. Perhaps this was the reason that I began besting the program every time.

I graduated from the flight school a month later - making me a full pilot in the Republic's dwindling but proud army. With no graduation test to train endlessly for, those of us who had earned our wings felt as if we were inching toward the edge of a bottomless chasm - now any training we did would be for war, for our own survival and for the survival of democracy.

          And for myself, to put an end to all the wrong Dooku and his followers had done - I was sure that my parents weren't the only people who had ever gotten in the way and had to be brushed aside. 

          Before the war had began, though, all we could do was patrol the skies of Corasaunt looking for nare-do-wells. Because of my obsessive training in the days before the graduation testing, I had earned full marks on all of my simulations, placing me on the most elite of the newly graduated teams - Darren's. While this was supposed to be a reward, to me it was like a punishment. I could hardly stand his bravado and the condescending way he treated us on missions.

          The day that we trailed an unauthorized freighter to an abandoned warehouse on Corasaunt's lower levels was the day that I believed Darren would truly be my undoing. I didn't know then that my eventual expulsion from the army would be the doing of someone else entirely, and in a way I couldn't have predicted.

          " Let's go," Darren said when we'd landed. We were a team of six that day, and the ship we'd followed had landed on the roof of an old warehouse where several others were parked.

          " Maybe we should call for backup first," I suggested, since I'd heard rumors that the Sith themselves had been using the dilapidated old buildings of Corasaunt's lower levels as headquarters. Darren glared at me.

          " This will be a routine pick up of smugglers," he barked, pulling his blaster from his hip and preparing to disembark. " If anyone other than Lieutenant Antilles here believes that the six of us will need help rounding up a few run of the mill weapons smugglers then they may speak now." Of course the way he said it clearly conveyed that they shouldn't speak if they knew what was good for them. None of the others made a sound. 

I followed the others toward the warehouse, cursing Darren in my head for being such an idiot - just walk in on a cache of criminals with illegal weapons, sure. What harm could that do? Judging by the number of ships parked above, we would be greatly outnumbered.

We entered through a back door, and heard loud arguing from the center of the warehouse. Despite the abundance of ships we'd seen outside, I hated to admit that Darren was probably right - from the sound of it there were only a few men inside. The warehouse was dark, lit only by a skylight in the high ceiling that was cracked in places and partly caved in. Darren, myself and the two others - a girl named Yvandes and a boy named Ruta - ducked behind some of the crates that filled the room, listening while the other two waited outside by the two entrances. I was surprised that the smugglers hadn't had their own people outside watching the doors - perhaps they never would have guessed that the military would bother with something so trite, but weapon smuggling was becoming a bigger deal now that a war was on the horizon.

As we listened, first my brow furrowed, and then my heart began knocking on the walls of my ribcage - so loud that I was afraid Darren would hear and become suspicious. I recognized the voices, from my many nights spent listening to them in a similarly sneaky fashion in the Tavern - bounty hunters.

" I had a contract, dammit!" I heard a human's voice shout, and I knew instantly that it was Pewa, the squirrelly hunter who hadn't known that Jango Fett had a son, and who often complained about it after he found out - about Boba's new monopoly on bounties, earned with his father's reputation.

" What do you think this is, the Senate?" a gruff voice said, laughing. " You think you can complain to the union? Its every man for himself, and anything is fair game, you know that."

" Why are you defending him?" Pewa shouted, " He's screwing all of us over equal."

" I'd watch what the hell you're saying, kid," a frog-like voice warned him.

" I don't have to listen to this," a man whose voice sounded as if it came from a poor com-link connection said. " I've got work to do."

" Not so fast," I heard Pewa say shakily, and I heard the click of a blaster being pulled from its holster, then cold laughter from the frog man.

" You idiot," he said. 

" They're drawing their weapons," Darren whispered, " Let's go." Before I could protest, he was jumping up from behind the crates.

" Freeze!" he screamed, pointing his blaster toward the center of the warehouse. " You are all under arrest for the possession of an unauthorized ship and for whatever smuggled goods we'll find within it."

I rolled my eyes at his lame battle cry, and stood with my own weapon raised. As I came up over the crates I saw Pewa, his blaster still raised and now pointed at Darren. Two others were standing behind him - a large man with dark skin and a bandana tied around his head, and a green creature with long whiskers.

On the other side of Pewa stood the fourth hunter. Before I could stop myself, my gun had fallen to my hip and I had called out his name.

" _Bo_ba?" 

It was him, wearing full armor, his stature suggesting that he'd been quite unperturbed by the threats of Pewa and Darren - but when his helmet flicked in my direction I thought I saw him stagger. Darren gave me a look, and I raised my gun again with trembling arms.

" A friend of yours, Antilles?" he muttered coldly. 

Suddenly Pewa fired. I heard the bullet fly past my shoulder, and after it had struck the wall I looked down to find the cloth of my uniform torn. I heard another shot, and when I looked up again Pewa was dead on the ground, and Boba was holding his blaster.

" Drop it!" Darren screamed, firing and missing. Ruta and Yvandes also began firing at the three hunters, since the other two had managed to draw their weapons in the confusion. Boba fired two clean shots and both of them were on the ground. 

" Stop!" I screamed, looking at him.

" Dammit, Antilles!" Darren said, falling behind the crates to avoid the blaster fire, " Shoot! Words aren't going to stop them!" He leaned over to check for a pulse on Yvandes and I stared down at her crumpled body - she had dark hair, she'd been in our squadron for two weeks now. She came from Alderran, just like my mother had. Now she was dead.

" Hold your fire!" I heard Boba scream when the other two hunters continued to fire on me after Darren fell behind the crates.

 All I could do was watch as he blasted off on his jet pack, up toward the hole in the skylight. Darren stood again and began firing at him as the other two hunters ran off - I knew the pilots waiting outside would catch them. Boba answered Darren's fire with a blaster shot that caught him in the shoulder.

" Argh!" Darren screamed, sliding to the ground. " Antilles!" he growled, " Get him!" I looked up, not knowing what I would do, and he was gone.

" He got away," I said, dazed, still not completely registering what had happened.

" Dammit!" Darren shouted as I helped him to stand, " That's it Antilles, that's it - you're off my squadron."

" Fine!" I said, peeling back the ripped cloth of his sleeve to have a look at his wound, " Good!" 

" You'll be lucky if you're not completely dispelled from the army for this," he continued as we made our way out of the warehouse, me helping him walk as he staggered with the pain. " You were completely useless! Did you even fire once?"

" I'm sorry!" I said, " I panicked." Later Darren's words would catch up with me, but at the moment I couldn't have cared less - the shock of seeing Boba was flooding all my senses so entirely that I couldn't feel anything else but relief. He was alive, and he was on Corasaunt. 

          When we got outside we told the other two pilots what had happened. They were loading the two bounty hunters they'd caught into the ship, and when they finished they jogged back inside to retrieve the bodies of Ruta and Yvandes. 

          It hit me as I began to bandage Darren's arm while he railed at me - two of us had died, and at Boba's hand. As much as I wanted to make excuses for him, it didn't change the fact that I was in love with a murderer, a bad person.

          " What the hell is going on?" the larger hunter was shouting, " We weren't doing anything! What business did you have firing at us like that?"

          " Shut up, you smuggler scum," Darren muttered. " Not so tight, Antilles!" he shouted as I wrapped his arm.

          " It has to be tight or you'll bleed to death," I reminded him sweetly, yanking the bandages tighter and making him wince. " And they're not smugglers."

          " Well you should know," Darren muttered, " Since you seem so familiar with them."

          " I've never seen her before in my life!" the green hunter insisted, thinking that would help prove his innocence, " And I'm no goddamn smuggler!"

          " Hey," the larger one muttered to his friend, " She's the one who called out Boba's name. Check out her hair." I turned to them and frowned, and they both snickered.

          " Oh yeah," the green hunter smirked, " How _ironic_."

          " What are they talking about?" Darren demanded, scowling. 

          " I have no idea," I said, frowning and touching my hair self-consciously. It was yanked back in the usual bundle of braids, and I could find nothing so extraordinary about it that it would provoke the attention of bounty hunters. The two hunters shut up after that, and I helped to load Ruta and Yvandes into the back of the ship. Emotionally it was not an easy task, carrying the bodies of our dead comrades, and by the time our ship was headed back to headquarters I was shaking like a leaf from the events of the day - I couldn't help but remember Mace's words from all those weeks before.

          _I sense that you are very conflicted_.


	6. Chapter Six

That night I returned home to my apartment - I was getting a salary from the army then, and even without it I could easily afford my own place with the credits Boba had left me.

          Boba. I thought about him as I changed into the white cotton slip I slept in, as I watched my reflection in my vanity mirror while I undid my braids. My long hair fell down around my face in waves once it was loose, and wondered as I saw myself looking normal again if it had shocked him to see me in the Republic's drab uniform, with my army issue hairdo and my blaster pointed at him. Or could nothing shock a seasoned hunter - even the sight of his childhood love turned into a soldier?

          I went to the window and opened it - outside the sounds of the city were still going strong - shouts from the bars that lined the road below, a saxophone player somewhere on the street, speeders zipping past the building high above me. My apartment was modest but stylish, in a more cosmopolitan part of town than most of my contemporaries could afford. 

          I tuned out the noise of the streets below and the vehicles above and looked up through the cracks in the skyscrapers at the sky. There were no visible stars on Corasaunt - the lights of the city washed them out completely. 

          I wondered where Boba was. When I'd seen him dealing with the other hunters - and with us, the pesky Republic pilots who'd barged in - he'd seemed so confident, cold and capable. I wondered if he'd even thought about the lives of Ruta and Yvandes before he fired – and did he care at all when they dropped to the floor?

          Exhausted from what had happened that day - and not quite sure what to make of it all - I went to bed and left the window open so that I could feel the warm breeze as I slept. I missed sleeping in the cave and living so close to nature - my time in the Jedi Council's headquarters had been the closest I'd even gotten to plant life since I'd left Geonosis.

          In bed, I had already resigned to the fact that I would dream of Boba - it wasn't an uncommon occurrence even on days when I hadn't suddenly come across him in an old warehouse. I still couldn't believe it - had I been seeing things? Had my mind wishfully placed him there along with the other hunters?

          When I fell asleep, I dreamt that I was sitting by a pond in the Jedi headquarters' water garden. I was wearing an elaborate gown, but I was all alone in the garden, watching the water with a mournful sort of look on my face. Suddenly a shadow fell over me, and I looked up see Boba in his father's armor, staring down at me.

          " What's wrong?" he asked, his concern genuine.

          " My parents died," I told him, as if I'd just learned this, " Did you kill them?" I then asked, looking up at him.

          " I didn't mean to," he said, and I looked away. " Calli!" he said, falling to his knees beside me, " Forgive me - forgive me! I didn't know." He pulled on my arm, begged me to look at him.

          " Don't hate me," he cried, " Don't hate me, Calli, you're all I have." 

          When his pleading finally broke me, I turned and tried to take his helmet off. I needed to see his eyes - if I could just look into his face I knew I'd be able to forgive him, I knew that I would be looking into the eyes of a good person, my Boba, the Boba I remembered. The Boba he told me to remember.

          But I couldn't get the helmet off. I stood up, I pulled, I screamed in frustration as I yanked at the metal that was clasped so tightly around his head.

          " I can't do it," I finally cried, falling to the ground in defeat. " I'm not strong enough."

          " Its okay," Boba said, his voice sad behind his metal mask. " Its okay."

          Suddenly my sleep was broken with a jolt - I sat up in bed quickly, as if I'd been called to battle in the middle of the night. I waited, frozen, listening for the noise that might have disturbed me. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the short gasps of my breath - and a saxophone still playing sadly on the street below. I realized that it was very late and that I'd been asleep for a long time - the streets and the skies outside were quieter. 

          Then I saw it flash past my window - the orange blaze of a jetpack. I waited for a moment and I heard him coming back - Boba. He peered in at me through the open window, and when he knew for certain that he had found my apartment, placed a foot on the windowsill and climbed in.

          Neither of us spoke for a moment. He stepped into my room, standing proudly in that armor, his jetpack still smoking on his back. I was still breathing hard from my jarring awakening, and I watched him in silence, trying to catch my breath as he removed his pack and placed it on a chair near the window.

          " Today," he said, his voice odd and harsh through the helmet, " I thought you would shoot me."

          " Don't talk to me with that thing on," I returned coldly. He reached up and removed his helmet - leftover anxiety from my nightmares was quickly extinguished when it came off easily, revealing the face I remembered, and not the more grizzled and angry one I had feared the mask might hide.

          " Maybe you should have," he finished when he saw the look I was giving him. The anger that I'd been avoiding in all the time that he'd left me rushed in all at once when I saw him again - but why bother, I thought. He'll leave me again soon, I may never see him again. I decided to hate him later - while he was with me I could at least enjoy the small time I had to spend with him. However angry I was, I had missed him - more than I had even realized before he returned.

          He stood, uncertain, at the foot of my bed, holding his helmet, his armor making his posture look strangely formal - back straight, feet apart. I sat in my bed, covers drawn to my chest, and stared back.

          " How did you find me?" I asked.

          " I followed you home," he said. " I might not be the best of us with a blaster, but tracking I'm good at."

          " What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, " You meant to kill Darren, too?"

          " Was he the one I tagged in the shoulder? I guess so, Calli. He was trying to kill me." 

          " Ah, so the only reason you didn't drop me was that I was too shell shocked at seeing you to fire?" I spat back. Pushing my anger away for later would be harder than I'd thought, I realized.

          He was silent for a moment - I couldn't read his expression, but the air in the room changed when I accused him of this.

          " You know I wouldn't hurt you," he said.

          " Too late for that," I said automatically, instantly regretting that I'd admitted this to him.

          " Calli," he said, " You know I'm not doing this to hurt you."

          " Doing _what_?"

          " Establishing myself on Corasaunt!" he said, " Working slowly toward my father's vengeance."

          " And then what?" I asked, " What if you do get what you're after, this Jedi's head on a stake?"

          " I'll have made too many enemies to return to you," he said. " I never promised that I wouldn't leave you," he added.

          " You did," I said, remembering the night at the orphanage when he'd told me about Kamino and the star worshippers.

          " No," he said, " I told you that if I left I'd return to you."

          " So much for that plan," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

          " Why do you think I'm here now?" he asked.

          " Because of a promise?" I answered, hurt.

          " Because you're my home, my family," he said. He sat down on the bed and looked at me in a way that suggested we do something that wouldn't be appropriate for the role of a surrogate sister or mother - did he mean I was like another kind of family - a wife? 

          I noticed a new addition to the shoulder plate of his armor - a thin, blonde braid of hair that fell to his chest. I looked away and laughed to myself, remembering the comments of the hunters we'd arrested. They must have teased him about his keepsake; obviously they'd thought it was my hair when I'd seemed to know him.

          " What is it?" Boba asked.

          " I met your girlfriend," I said, looking back at him. I knew I was being cold - and though he deserved it, it was still hard to do when I looked into his eyes. I had to glance away before I softened.

          " What?" he said, frowning.

          " This," I explained, reaching for the braid. " I met the girl who gave you this - unless you've courted more than one blonde since we parted." 

          " Oh," he said, pinching his eyes shut, as if making an effort to remember. 

" Yeah - a farm girl I lent a hand to. She gave me this when we went our separate ways," he fingered it. " I couldn't turn my back on her. She reminded me of you - sometimes I even look down at it and think its yours for a second."

          " And why did she remind you of me?" I asked, " Was it just the hair, or was it that she was also a weak-minded, love sick fool?"

          He shook his head. " Because she was beautiful," he conceded, " And because she thought that I could save her."

          I was silenced by his response - so he had known that I had placed all my hope in him - and he had dashed my dreams knowing this. But was it for the best? Wasn't I better for being able to stand on my own - would I ever have achieved my independence if Boba hadn't left? Had he saved me without meaning to - or was it in his plans all along? Was I even saved?

          " And did you?" I asked, looking at him, at his brown eyes watching mine. 

" Did you save her?" My voice had become softer, and he moved closer to me in response.

          " I couldn't," he said, " That was why I left. Its why I left you, too. Don't you think I wanted to bring you with me to Corasaunt? I couldn't - I can't. I don't have that luxury."

          " I don't understand," I said.

          " I don't have anything in me but anger," he said, " I've got nothing to offer - nothing you'd want. I don't know what I'm even doing here. I have nothing to give you but my body and my excuses."

          " Then save the excuses," I said, pulling him to me, " I've heard them." 

          He looked at me with a sadness that made my heart sink before bridging the gap between our lips and kissing me in a way that was both soft and desperate - his body begged me to love him when his words couldn't. 

          As if we'd made a pact not to speak, the conversation ended and he began removing his armor piece by piece and laying it carefully on the floor. With each part he took off, he'd look at me before going for another, and I'd smile as if to say _Go on_.

          When he was free of his battle suit and then his clothes, I studied his body in the light that came through the open window - light from the street signs, the lamp posts, the moon above all of it. Upon closer examination, he did look different - when he'd left he'd still looked like a boy, even under all of his muscles, even with his impressive height. He looked like a man in my apartment that night. I could only imagine - and usually choose not to - what he had been through since we'd parted, what had brought about the change.

          " Come here," I said, pulling back my covers and inviting him to climb under them. He did, and sidled up against me, melting away my chilly disposition with the heat of his skin.

          It was a strange sensation, having Boba in my arms again, having him watch me, trying to read what his next move should be or maybe just wondering if he'd made a mistake - weakened - by returning to me. This was a concept that my mind simply couldn't grasp, however, that Boba had returned to me. I had expected any reunion to completely floor me, by having my hopes answered, by being faced with what I'd wished for. 

But this disbelief, this core-shaking happiness that I'd thought Boba would bring with him wasn't there - and not because I wasn't thrilled to see him, to hold him again - but because to my mind there could be no big return, no sudden homecoming. I'd kept him so alive in my memories, so tangible in my dreams, that the reality of having him pressed against me was anything but shocking and new - I felt as if it was just another night of retiring to bed with Boba, since he had never left my thoughts, my heart.

           My body, on the other hand, had felt the physical absence of his with a certainty that imagination and fantasy couldn't make up for - every inch of my skin came alive again when I was close to him - I pulled my nightgown off without hesitation, wanting to feel his touches more completely. His hands were rougher than I remembered, but I was almost glad - I wasn't in the mood for soft touches that night. I wanted everything - wanted him - as hard and real as possible.

          As close as I'd stayed to his memory, as rarely as he'd strayed from my thoughts, I had forgotten what it felt like to have him inside me. It wasn't so much something that my physical self had forgotten as it was something that had been lost to my soul in the time we'd been apart. I tried in vain to hide the tears that came when I felt this overwhelming closeness to him - he kissed my cheeks dry without missing a beat. 

          Oh _there_ you are, I thought, as he came down closer, flattening his stomach against mine and pressing his face close to my shoulder - I could feel the shudder of his eyelashes on my neck when he pinched his eyes shut against my skin. 

There you are. 

I put my hand on the back of his head as his body shuddered all around me, as if I was trying to hold him still. Maybe I was. I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders and my legs around his middle, held him fast, my muscles tensing as his relaxed, the full pressure of his weight making me sink deeper into the bed. 

When, I suppose, there was nothing else to say, he just whispered my name into my ear, the gentle breeze of his breath and the teasing touch of his lips there making me tremble as if he had just reached for me, as if he wasn't long past reaching - softening and sliding into sleep. 

I didn't want to fall asleep - I willed myself not to. Boba rolled off of me and onto his side, and watched me with half-closed eyes, his own effort to stay awake an obvious struggle.

" When was the last time you slept?" I whispered.

" The night before I left you," he answered. I scoffed.

" That was a year ago," I said, " You're not a god, Boba - humans need sleep."

" I've closed my eyes and put my head to a pillow inside the ship," he told me, " But I haven't slept. Not like this. Not without my hand on my blaster."

" Maybe we should shut the window so your many enemies won't murder us while we're lying here," I joked, annoyed with his over-estimation of his dangerous lifestyle. Were bounty hunters really so hunted themselves?

" I can't stay," he said in answer to my joke. " Its selfish of me to be here even now." Tired of his excuses to leave me alone, I rolled over, facing away from him.

" Go then," I muttered, " Save me by leaving me - that's what you want me to think, right?"

" I don't care what you think," he told me boldly, pressing himself to my back and putting his lips to my shoulders as he spoke, " As long as I know you're alive."

" What good am I to you alive?" I asked, " If you won't let yourself be with me?"

" I guess I just want to know that I protected someone I cared about," he said, " Like I couldn't with my father.

          " You were only a child," I whispered, wishing that our parents didn't mean so much to us, wishing that we could let the dead die, and knowing that it was impossible.

          " If Dad had let me carry a blaster I would have shot his killer without a second thought," he said. I realized I'd never heard him refer to his father as 'Dad' before - it was heartbreaking to hear, and in such a statement. I squeezed the edge of the pillow I was lying on into my fist.

          " I found out about my father," I said, knowing I shouldn't tell him but unable to resist. Maybe it would have some impact - I doubted it, but there was a chance.

          " And?" Boba asked, after some respectful hesitation. I had to beat back tears before I could get the words out.

          " A bounty hunter killed him," I said coolly when I'd regained my composure.

          " Calli," he said, sitting up on his elbow and taking my shoulder in his hand, rolling me over to face him. I waited for something - an apology? But he only stared down at me, unflinching.

          " Boba you were right," I said, " The world is a horrible place." He didn't disagree, or even wish aloud that I still naively thought otherwise.

          " Why did you leave the cave?" he asked, and I could see suddenly the distress that finding me in Corasaunt wearing a military uniform had caused him, " What are you doing here?"

          " I wasn't looking for you, if that's what you're thinking," I said quickly.

          " I gave you that money so that you wouldn't have to come to a place like this looking for work," he told me.

          " You might as well have piled boulders over the entrance of the cave, too," I said, irritated with his estimation of what I was capable of. " That way I'd be preserved inside forever, your safe little orphan girl, ignorant to the world."

          " That's not what I want," he said weakly. I could see his mind juggling as he watched me - to leave or stay?  When could he go? How long could he stay? Which did he want, and did it matter?

          " What _do_ you want?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't understand the broad meaning of the question.

          " I don't know," he answered. 

          " I wish I could help you," I said.

          " So do I."

          He climbed out of the bed then, and dressed himself in silence. I stayed wrapped under the blankets, watching him disappear again beneath his father's armor.

          " How close are you?" I asked, afraid of the answer. " To finding the Jedi who killed your father?"

          " Close," he said, after some hesitation. " But very far."

          " That's ambiguous," I snorted. 

          " I know where he is," Boba told me, " But I don't know how I'll get to him. And I don't know if I'm ready."

          " So the keycard didn't work?" I asked.

          " No," he said, annoyed with the reminder.

          So the man you stole it from died in vain? This question I didn't need to ask aloud - we could both feel it hanging in the air, and we both knew the answer.

          When Boba was fully outfitted, he stopped at the edge of the bed and looked at me - I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. Adieu forever? Thanks for the farewell sex? 

          " Do you really give a damn about me?" I couldn't help but ask. He plucked his helmet from the edge of the bed and his jetpack from the chair he'd set it on and walked to the window, looked out at the city that surrounded us. I could see in his profile that the question had hurt him, but, sadistically, and perhaps because I wasn't getting what I wanted, I didn't care.

          " Obviously," he muttered, sliding his jetpack onto his back. " You think I don't."

          " Wouldn't you?" I asked, " If you were me?"

          " If I were you," he laughed. " I wouldn't have let me in."

          " I didn't," I reminded him, " The window was already open." He gave me a look and I realized what he already knew - I'd left the window open on purpose. I'd been waiting for him without even knowing it.

          " Calli," he said, stepping up onto the ledge. " The Republic is going to go down in flames, and soon. There is something on the horizon - I can't be sure what it is but its going to change everything. I wish you would get off of this planet. I wish you would leave the army."

          " I have my own wishes, Boba," I told him coldly, " None of them will ever come true, either."

          " You're a fool," he told me.

          " I know," I said softly, hurt. " I was a fool to ever leave the orphanage with you. You made me a fool." He sighed.

          " It was too hard to say goodbye to you," he said.

          " You don't seem to be having a problem with it now," I spat back, watching his hand grip the window's frame, his foot sneaking out farther onto the ledge as we spoke. 

          He looked away from me and put his helmet on then, almost defensively.

          " You don't know me at all," he said, his voice strange again inside the mask he hid behind. 

          Of course he was right. The harsh reminder still stinging in my ears, he pushed off from the ledge and blasted away. 

After my encounter with Boba I felt newly empty, but more determined to prove myself. Darren never came through on his promise to have me removed from his squad, and I was never confronted about my behavior at the warehouse, even when the deaths of Yvandes and Ruta were investigated. 

          I was working hard, trying to develop a sense of duty to the Republic. But as someone who had never felt as though she belonged to anything, allegiance was a hard feeling to muster. I tried to borrow from my parents' legacy - my father had flown for the same army. I wanted to honor their memory, but I had no memories of them of my own - all of mine were borrowed from Mace's stories. I would meet up with the Jedi Master whenever he could find the time, and he would happily tell me anecdotes about my parents - I was grateful for his time, but I also resented him for having been able to know them when I could not.

          My life puttered on toward a war I felt I had nothing to do with, and meanwhile my dreams were of having my own ship, of flying away, but to where I did not know. 

          The Republic held a military ball, inconveniently on a night when tensions were high. The Senate was in danger of being eradicated as more and more constituents declared their affiliation with the Separatists. Palpatine had disappeared at the beginning of the week and was still no where to be found, which was troublesome - some had begun to suspect him as a double agent working for the Separatists. 

          Meanwhile we were all decked out in formal wear and heading for a silly ball that was supposed to lift morale and generate a feeling of loyalty to the Republic. I forfeited my dress uniform for a silver gown I'd bought for the occasion - not out of vanity as some of the others had, but because I wasn't in the mood for patriotism. 

          The gala was held in the ballroom of a grand hotel in the classy part of town. I was particularly impressed with the huge, stone balcony, which I lingered on, alone, while couples all around me snuggled together against the cold night air. Above us the moon watched our little human drama indifferently - did the celestial gods know that we were all perched precariously on the knife's edge of war? 

          " Antilles," I heard Darren's voice behind me and rolled my eyes before turning. He was dressed in full regalia, the few medals he'd already won in his young career as a pilot shining proudly from his chest. " Very disappointing," he said, looking at me like he always had - like I was his prey, something slow-moving that he could take advantage of. 

          " What?" I snapped, happy that we were now equals and that I could treat him the way I'd always wanted to - like a pest.

          " I would have thought you'd like to show the Republic some respect by wearing your uniform," he said, leaning on the thick, stone ledge and looking out over the hotel's gardens below. 

          " We were given the choice to wear civilian clothes for the party," I reminded him, " It's been a long time since I dressed up." Actually, I never had. Not once in my life had I worn a gown, or anything beyond a tattered skirt. " You can tease me for being trivial, as I'm sure you want to." He snorted, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

          " What are you doing here, Antilles?" he muttered, still not looking at me. " I've been trying to figure it out, but you got me. What the hell do you want out of your service in the army?"

          " I want to serve the Republic, defend democracy," I lied, rattling off our mission statement. Darren gave me a look that signified that he didn't believe me anymore than I believed myself. Then suddenly he seemed caught off guard, and what he said next caught me more off guard than Boba's recent reappearance in my life even had. 

          " You are so beautiful," the words seemed to fall from his lips; for a moment I thought he would reach out and try to catch them, to shove them back in. There was a horrified look on his face, as if he'd betrayed himself.

          But even as I heard this proud young man let loose these words in an awkward moment, I saw Boba standing again at the foot of my bed, and I heard him saying the same thing, just as helpless for the admittance. Had he meant to say this to me that night? It would have meant something, strangely, to hear that he still thought I was beautiful. Had I interrupted him with my query, with my demand to know if he gave a damn about me or not? 

          " Thank you," I said, baffled. Darren turned away from me. In profile, and in general, he was rather handsome. I hadn't noticed before because he had registered as all men who weren't Boba Fett had when I'd laid eyes on him: not my type.

          " And you're hiding something," he said, looking back to me. " I've always felt that you were."

          " You're paranoid, then," I said, not meeting his eyes, suddenly terrified of him and the chance that he presented. " I haven't done anything to make the army think I might be hiding something."

          " Its just a feeling I get," he said. The fact that he was getting feelings about me was bothersome, and I wished him away, but at the same time, was grateful for the attention. No one had found anything spectacular in me in awhile. I, in fact, was beginning to doubt that I even had the potential for anything beyond ordinary - another girl in braids and a gray, Republic-issue flight suit.

          Darren asked me if I wanted anything to drink, and I turned and wondered where his throngs of admirers were. I realized when I found none that he was something of an outcast - because of his father's position, he had always been set apart. I'd assumed this was a positive thing for him, but, given some consideration, it was an obvious handicap. I studied him as he leaned beside me. 

          " You don't look like a soldier," he said, unembarrassed by his sexism. I scowled at him.

          " You've always resented me for the way I look," I said.

          " I just told you you're beautiful," he said, in lame defense.

          " I don't need you to tell me that," I said, a lie, " And maybe you resent me because I'm beautiful, and not - interested."

          " You're not interested in me?" in his tone there was a sense that he was trying not to roar with laughter at the very idea. I scoffed.

          " Where do men get their insane confidence?" I asked, thinking of Boba.

          " Not all of us are confident," Darren bragged, taking it as a compliment.

          " All the ones I've known are," I muttered. Darren made three, Boba and Mace being the other two men I'd known. And I wasn't quite sure I knew Darren - outwardly he seemed like only the brazen, over-privileged son of a general - not likeable but trustworthy enough. Maybe he was something more, or less.

          " Come take a walk with me," he said, pushing off of the railing. I wondered if he knew that I was aware of his intentions, or did he think he was fooling me? Call a woman beautiful and have your way with her instantly?

          " Alright," I agreed after pretending to consider. Let Darren think that he had easily won me over - I had my own agenda. I wanted to know what it was like with another man. Would it be the same? Was I holding out for something in Boba that I could have had with anyone? I followed Darren down the moonlit path to the garden.

          We walked past the heavily meddled officials that were standing in clumps in the garden, drinking and talking seriously about the struggle for power in the galaxy that was coming to a point. They all nodded to Darren, not recognizing me and probably thinking I was only his civilian date. I contemplated this lifestyle for a moment - the docile love of a military man, waiting at home while he was off defending democracy. Not understanding, only wishing for his safety. Then I realized I had played this role before - in the cave, praying for Boba in vain, cursing his quest, his principles for being more sacred than our love. 

          As if reading my thoughts, Darren breached this subject while we searched for a dark, quiet place in the garden. 

          " Now I know where I got this feeling from," he said suddenly. I frowned.

          " What feeling?"

          " That you've got a secret," he said, his smirk and his cold blue eyes looking eerie in the pale light from the night sky.

          " Where then?" I asked. He took my shoulders roughly in his hands and pushed me behind a hedge. My back found a wall - the dress was cut low and the plants that snaked down the wall scraped my bare skin.

          " Those smugglers we picked up," he said. I couldn't see him - behind the hedge it was dark, my eyes hadn't adjusted yet. I could feel his breath not far from my face. " You seemed to recognize one of them - the one who shot me. You called him 'Boba.' I asked around - it was Boba _Fett_, wasn't it? Famous bounty hunter? Jango Fett's bastard son?"

          My heart rate increased - I realized suddenly he'd waited until we were alone to tell me this, he hadn't simply remembered it all of a sudden. He'd researched it - he'd researched Boba. 

          " What do you want from me Darren?" I asked, " You want me out of the army? You threatened to demote me that day when I saw him, and nothing ever came of it."

          " I felt so betrayed," he said, touching my face, his caress surprisingly tender and timid. My eyes began to adjust and I saw that his were wild; I started when I realized how close he was to me. " I had arranged to have you on my team, and you still never gave me the time of day. And then, the way you called that criminal's name-"

          " Stop it," I said, pressing my back closer to the wall, the vines scratching and clawing at my skin. My stomach began to feel queasy; I lifted my hand to my forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed there, but Darren caught it and kissed my palm before I could.

 " Darren," I said, struggling to breathe, " You don't know anything about me." I had thought he wanted sex - I couldn't handle this other admission, this emotional outburst. He seemed to have suddenly gone mad - I couldn't smell liqueur on his breath, maybe it was something else - drugs?

" I want to know about you," he said, pressing himself to me. He was much taller, and his crotch was level with my stomach.

" Don't push on me," I groaned, shoving at his wide chest, " I don't feel well."

" I'm sorry," he said, and I was genuinely surprised when he backed off a bit. For a moment I had expected him to try and rape me, but maybe he wasn't so evil. Maybe he was just a lonely man in search of some woman to take care of him. Whatever he was and whatever he was looking for, I didn't want to be involved - I immediately regretted my curiosity. It wouldn't be the same; I could already feel the sticky malignancy of pure lust creeping up my spine - it would be nothing like it was with Boba. Sadly, as I had suspected, love made all the difference.

I would never love anyone again, I knew. My heart dropped and my stomach seemed to pinch shut inside me - the pain kicking me in the middle, I grasped at Darren for support.

" I'm sorry," he said again, taking me in his arms. " I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

No, I thought, groaning. Not you, not you, but the damage has been done. I began to feel something creeping up inside me - I tried to push away from Darren but it was too late.

I threw up all over his jacket, and some on his shoes, too.

" Oh shit," I moaned, turning and bracing myself against the wall. Darren was stunned silent for a few moments, then he mustered up a good-hearted laugh.

" I see," he said, chuckling with some effort and bending down to try and wipe off his shoes. " You're drunk."

I didn't argue with him, though I'd had nothing to drink. I felt the urge to throw up again but pushed it down, trying to steady myself. I thought of my mother, of poison racking through her in her final hours. Did it feel like this? 

When the pains rolled slowly away, Darren helped me around the side of the hotel so that we wouldn't have to walk through the party in the sad state we were in. The smell on Darren's clothes was making me want to puke again, but I suppressed the urge by sticking my head out of the window of his speeder as he drove me home. 

" I'm so sorry," I managed, sitting in the passenger seat beside him. I was embarrassed, but I knew he was too, after his clumsy love pledge had been met with physical sickness.

" Its no problem," he said, patting my knee. By then he had removed the jacket and laid it in the backseat - he wore a collar shirt underneath and had unbuttoned it and taken off his tie.

" Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked. He had always gone out of his way to make my life miserable in the past - I had assumed that boys gave up on teasing the girl that they liked when they were five years old; perhaps I was wrong.

" Well," he said, " You never really responded to the asshole routine." He smirked. " And I think I resented you for drawing my attention away from training, from the approaching war." He grew serious: " This means everything to me," he said, " And I guess I suspected that you didn't feel the same way."

I was impressed with his accurate observations - but I remained silent, and when we pulled up to my apartment building I rolled my head towards him and watched him without speaking. He managed a smile, but all the while he had the look of a man who was bleeding to death.

" You're scared," I said, nearly delirious from dehydration and the strange torrent of emotions that had been racing through me during the party and for the past weeks. 

" I'm not," he said, an obvious lie. " I'm ready to die for the Republic. Can you say the same thing?" He seemed to care so deeply, I couldn't lie to him.

" I'm ready to die," I returned simply, honestly.

" Callia," he said, a desperate sadness in his eyes as he fell toward me, bending to kiss me roughly on the mouth. I sat still and received what he could offer - his mouth was warm but the touch of his lips on mine didn't send shudders down to my middle, didn't curl my toes. No, I would never have that again. 

" What's going to happen to us?" he whispered when he pulled away, and I knew he wasn't talking about just he and I. Our generation - would it one of the unlucky ones, lost to a war? Remembered as brave but not really remembered at all, not as people, not as people who reached for each other in the desperate darkness of a speeder on a quiet night before the storm?

" Damn," I said, touching my mouth, wet from his sloppy kiss. " Doesn't my breath stink?"

Exhausted, it was all I could manage in answer to his impossible question. And we laughed, courageously.


	7. Chapter Seven

I was vomiting again the next morning. Scared that something was wrong with me, I took sick leave from my rounds and stumbled groggily through the streets of Corasaunt, headed for the Jedi Council's headquarters. The streets were less crowded than normal - people could feel the threat hovering over the galaxy and were hiding or preparing for it as best they could. It was as if a giant, blazing meteor had appeared in the sky, headed for the planet - the sense of danger was that palpable.

          Things would never be the same - one didn't have to be a divinator, in those days, to say this with some certainty. When I reached the headquarters I found that security had been trumped - I had to send a message to Master Windu and waited outside the building's gigantic doors for him to come and escort me inside. 

          When Mace appeared he looked grave, but managed a friendly smile for me. I wanted to rush into his arms but I restrained myself. I found myself longing for a mother, any mother, as I followed him into the building, feeling again like I would be sick. 

          " Callia," he said. He nearly insisted upon calling me by the proper form of my name - it was part of the Jedi coldness that I didn't understand. " You don't look well," he told me, blunt to the last.

          " I'm not," I said, placing a hand on my stomach, " Something is wrong with me." Mace's face changed when he glanced down at the source of my pain, and I had a feeling he might 'sense' what was wrong with me. But I didn't trust the Jedi intuition more then than I ever had, so I asked if they had any resident doctors I could see.

          " The military doesn't provide you with a hospital?" he asked, leading me to the medical station of the headquarters.

          " They do," I admitted with a sigh. " But I wouldn't want to bother them now - everything on the base has gone bonkers lately." Mace nodded curtly.

          " It has been somewhat 'bonkers' here as well," he said, though I couldn't see that anything had changed as we walked through the building's halls - all of the Jedi we passed looked as collected and contemplative as ever. 

          " Well," I said, " If its too much trouble -"

          " Nonsense," Mace said with a wave of his hand. " The doctors here are happy to help anyone in need." Even as he spoke to me he seemed distracted, and I began to realize the comfort I was seeking could no longer come from the Jedi, who, as defenders of the Republic, were threatened by the Separtist movement as well.

          " Thank you," I said when he led me into a room that was decorated entirely in a pearly white - a huge white desk in the shape of a semi-circle stood at the center of it. 

          " Opam," he said to the small Twi'lek man who stood behind the desk. He made me think of Ipa, my Twi'lek friend - I wondered where she was and how her people would be effected by the war. I hoped she was safe.

          " My young friend here is having some stomach pains," he explained to the front desk worker, " Is one of the doctors available?"

          " Um," Opam said, consulting a computer. " Yes, but only for a moment."

          " It shouldn't take long," Mace said, his implied knowledge making me uncomfortable. 

          " Follow me, then," Opam said, walking back toward a set of double doors that led to the examining rooms.

          " I'll wait here," Mace promised, and I gave him a grateful smile. 

          The doctor, to my admittedly racist relief, was human. I trusted the humans to best understand the workings of their own kind, and the doctors that had come in various speices to the orphanage had always made me nervous with their alien apendages - the rare human doctor had been a welcome comfort.

          " Hello," he said, smiling and looking me over - he was an older man, thick in the waist. I wondered what it took to be a Jedi's doctor? Had he flunked respectably out of the Academy - an adept meditator who simply had poor fighting skills? He told me to hop onto the examing table, and I obeyed, nervous.

          " I'm just going to ask you a few questions, Calli," he said, automatically guessing my nickname as he glanced at the chart I'd filled out. I smiled, glad he was less formal than Mace.

          " Okay."

          " Firstly," he said, " You said you were having stomach pains?"

          " Yes." 

          " You've been vomitting?"

          " Uh huh."

          " How long has this been going on?"

          " Just since last night," I said.

          " Were you drinking last night?"

          " No."

          " Smoking anything? Death sticks?"

          " No. But I uh, used to cigarillos in school." He jotted something on his chart, and I wondered if I should have admitted to this.

          After some writing, he looked up, and asked something, boredly, that floored me.

          " Is it possible that you're pregnant?" 

          I opened my mouth to tell him no, I was taking birth control supplements. They'd been given to us at the orphanage since we hit puberty, to keep more unwanted children from crowding their rooms. And I'd been careful to continue taking them after I left with Boba, knowing full well that for the first time in my life they would be put to some use. After Boba left I'd even continued to take them out of habit - but once I ran out, I hadn't bought any more at the market. They were not easy to come by on Geonosis, and I thought, Why bother? By the time I'd gotten back out to the market it had become clear that Boba was gone for good. And I didn't exactly have other suitors lining up at the door of the cave. 

          " Miss Antilles?" the doctor said, leaning toward me and waiting for a response.

          " I, um -" I stammered, trying to imagine how it was possible. I had slept with Boba that night he appeared at my window - how could I not think of the birth control supplements that I hadn't taken in almost a year? I pinched my eyes shut, unwilling to believe it. I considered lying to him, but I wasn't sure what kind of powers a Jedi doctor had. 

" Its possible," I squeaked, " Yes."

          " We'll do a pregnancy test, then," he said, almost cheerfully. Perhaps he couldn't tell by looking at me the situation I was in - maybe he thought I was someone's happy wife, surprised but not wrecked by news of her pregnancy.

          I didn't have to wait for the results of the test - I knew before he showed me the positive marker that I was carrying Boba's child. As soon as the idea was suggested to me it seemed obvious. 

          " Any guess as to how far along you are?" the doctor asked. " I can do another test to find out -"

          " No," I said, " I know. A month and a half." That was the last time I'd seen Boba - that night when I'd accused him of not giving a damn, the night he called me a fool, and somewhere in the midst of this we'd made love and made a baby.

          The doctor nodded, lowering his chart to his chest.

          " Because you're not very far along," he said, " I can give you purges if you decide not to keep the baby. They are somewhat painful, but some women prefer them to surgery."

          I sat still on the examining table, my thighs, suddenly sweaty, sticking to the paper that covered it. I remembered one night, a long time ago, at the orphanage. Boba and I had had snuck out after lights out for a smoke, and had heard one of the matrons coming down the hall. Knowing she would smell the fumes, we stamped out our cigarillos and ran to hide - we ducked inside one of the teacher's offices and smashed ourselves under his desk. Unfortunatly, the offices in the orphanage were connected to the teachers' living quarters, so, hearing the noise, our professor awoke and came into his office to see what was the matter. We stayed as still and silent as stones under the desk, though it was hard. It was not by any means enough room for the two of us to sit comfortably - my legs were squished up to my chest and my feet rested in Boba's lap - his arms crunched up against my knees. 

          Our teacher, meanwhile, used the disturbance as an excuse to stay up and listen to records. We had to remain hidden through two symphonies and one opera, which nearly had us in hysterics - we hadn't heard much opera before, and the dramatic foreign music was strangely comical to two kids shoved under a desk in the middle of the night. I was in love with Boba then, and my heart was already leaping at our closeness - when I saw him laughing silently, shoulders shaking, eyes closed, his hands on my knees, I remember thinking there was nothing more beautiful in the world than the boy I loved when he smiled. I wanted so badly to kiss him - though even if I'd have mustered up the courage I couldn't have, we were so cramped and unable to move. He actually fell asleep pressed against me like that, while the music kept me awake. His head had fallen forward, I remember, and the scent of his hair was driving me mad. In the boldest moment of my life I kissed one of his knuckles while he slept - so lightly that he scarely would have felt it if he was awake. In a butterfly's flutter of a movement my lips brushed his skin, and a line borrowed from trash romances and holovid dramas buzzed in my young mind.

          I wanted to have his children.

          As a girl I had naviely dreamed that we would somehow remain together, that we would have all the normal things that people who were in love cultivated - children included. I could even see them in my mind, then - hybrids of the most beautiful parts of us, my navy eyes and his charcoal hair, a mixture of our skin, like coffee with too much cream. 

          Sitting the in doctor's office, however, I couldn't picture the child that Boba and I had created at all - the very idea seemed impossible. Because I didn't have Boba's permission to bear his children? It felt, cruelly, like I'd stolen something of his, wicked for coming away with a part of him still inside me. 

          I didn't want a child, and the very idea of motherhood terrified me - I'd never had an example, only the vaguely concerned matrons of the orphanage, who had to raise children like crops, dolling out attention evenly and therefore sparsely. Furthermore I didn't want to bring a child who would never know his father into the world - only to have him become like me, someone who had to sift through other people's memories for an image of this mystery man.

          And yet.

          " No," I said, zombie-like, sliding off the examining table. " No purges. I have to go now."

          " Miss Antilles," the doctor, formal again, said as I stumbled from the room. " I can see that you are surprised - don't hesitate to come back if you change your mind, and if not, do return for prenatal care. Take care of yourself," he called, as I disappeared down the hall.

          I found a wall and leaned against it - I knew I wouldn't change my mind. As impractical as it was, I couldn't imagine getting rid of our baby. Our baby - mine and Boba's. The very concept of a merger of our cells was hard to grasp. I put my hand on my stomach, over the imperceptible child growing inside me. The idea of harboring another life made me shudder: the terrible responsibility, the strange excitement. 

          When I returned to the waiting room, Mace was giving me a knowing look. I walked to him and crossed my arms over my chest, afraid of his disapproval. On a holovid behind the front desk I could hear a news conference they were broadcasting - something about imminent aggression from the Separatists - but 'remain calm' the newscaster warned. I felt as though he were talking directly to me. Your life may be be exploding, but remain calm. 

          " You are going to be a mother, Callia," Mace said, without trying to hide what he had already sensed. " Congradulations." Tears pushed against the baracades of my eyelids, and I tried my best to hold them in, nodding somberly at his awknowledgement.

          " Come with me," he said, gentley taking my arm. " I want to show you something." I followed without a word. 

          We rode the elevator in silence that was awkward for me, but Mace seemed comfortable beside me. The ride was long, and when we stepped off we were on the building's top floors. Mace led me into a circular room lined with low, white chairs. The walls of the room were almost entirely made of windows - windows that looked out over the huge city below. Mace walked to one of them and I accompanied him, looking out over the city and trying to see what it was he wanted to show me.

          " Look at this city," he said, " This very civilization. The Jedi are encouraged to love and protect all people, and because this is my home I feel particularly strong about this place. And yet I know that though I will fight, I must watch as it is destroyed."

          A tear slid down my cheek. The sun was beginning to go down outside - the city was bathed in orange. I had no love for any planet, but this was the place where my parents had lived, the place where I was conceived. The last of them would be gone if Corasaunt fell. It was also the place where my own child had been conceived, I realized. 

          " The Separatists," I said, " Do you really think they could do damage to a place as powerful as Corasaunt?"

          " It is not the politicians I'm worried about," Mace said, " They are merely being manipulated by the Sith."

          " The Sith," it was a dark word that I had heard in passing several times - full of mystery, never really explained, only implied as the greatest evil in the galaxy.

          " Callia," he said, turning to me, " I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I feel strongly that you were meant to give birth to this child, that it is of great importance."

          I was taken aback - what grand purpose could the bastard child of two orphans serve? I supposed my child had as good a chance as anyone did to make a difference in the world - but how could even a Jedi see so far into the future?

          " When I saw you today I could sense this new life growing inside you," he said, his eyes turning back to the city, aflame with sunset. " I've had the same feeling about another good friend, a woman who has also been left alone with the burden of her pregnancy."

          " A Jedi?" I asked, surprised.

          " A Senator, actually," Mace said, " Someone who is already very distraught over the crisis in the Republic." He sighed. " Hearing the news of her pregnancy, and yours, has given me some of the small hope that I am still harboring for the Republic's survival."

          " I don't understand," I said, shaking my head, " Why?"

          " It is a premonition, I suppose," Mace said. " I cannot explain it, I can only give you the advice that I gave to her - to remove yourself from Corasaunt immediately, to find a safe place to give birth to your child. You have the advantage of anonymity, unlike her. Do you have a safe place where you can go?"

          My head was spinning - " Yes," I said, " There is a place on Geonosis, not far from their Imperial Coliseum."

          " Yes, I know the area," he said, " Do you have friends, someone to attend to you when you give birth?"

          " Yes," I lied. All of this was happening too fast - the way Mace was talking I expected a doomsday device to fall from the sky any moment. I looked around the room. " What is this place?" I asked, noting the strange arrangement of the furniture. " We didn't see this on the tour."

          " This is where the Jedi Masters meet to discuss the events of the galaxy, to develop courses of action for the Jedi to take," Mace said, observing the room with a sigh. " All of the Masters have been called away on duty, now that we are facing war."

          " And you?" I asked.

          " Corasaunt is my command center," he said, and I understood the burden that had fallen on him.

          " If the world was ending," I said, softly, looking back outside as the last of the sun sank below the horizon. " You'd feel it, wouldn't you?"

          " Yes," he answered, not facing me.

          I didn't dare to ask him what he knew.

I had to take another pregnancy test when I returned to the base that night, so that my claim of leave for medical reasons could be proven. When the test came back positive the formal papers were drawn up - my commanders seemed disappointed, but it was hard to detect, I suppose, under the cloud of disappointment that had already settled over the entire planet. Palpatine had resurfaced that afternoon and declared his loyalty to the Separatists, who were pledging alleigence to him, as an individual, to lead them. Democracy, which seemed unfellable, had become a child shaking a stick at a hurricaine. Splintering in the wind.

          " We're sorry to loose you, Antilles," my superiors said, and I knew that they would be sorry to loose anyone, then. I nodded and took myself from their sad, still room in the lower levels of the base, which had been put on red alert that day. 

          As I was packing up my things in my apartment, preparing to leave for Geonosis that night, someone pounded on my door. I jumped and dropped the dress I'd been folding - the elaborate one I'd worn to the ball - why was I even bringing it? I wondered as I looked down at its crumpled form at my feet. 

          The only people who knew where I lived in the city were Darren and Boba, and I had a good idea which of them would bother to knock before entering.

          When I opened the door Darren glared at me. He was leaning against the frame - he was disheveled and smelled like high-class booze.

          " The base is on red alert," I said, at a loss, " What are you doing here?"

          " You coward," he spat at me, stumbling into the room.

          I turned from him and went to the bed, continued with my packing. I didn't have time to explain myself to Darren. All domestic interplanetary flight had been suspended, but Mace had pulled some strings and gotten me on a government vessel that was secretly taking important people from the capitol's airdock at midnight. I didn't have much time - I hadn't expected my commanders to make me prove that I was pregnant. In times like those it seemed as if such a thing hardly mattered, though I suppose Mace would disagree.

          Darren fell heavily onto the bed and leaned forward, staring down at his shoes. 

          " Why, Antilles?" he asked, running his hands frantically through his blonde hair, " Why are you doing this? I thought you were -" he let the sentence sink, and looked to me for an answer.

          " I'm pregnant," I told him, having nothing to loose. His eyes filled up with something I thought I recognized as longing, but hoped was only pity.

          " Who?" he asked, dumbfounded. I knew he had been watching me, and surely he'd never seen me with a man he could have misconstrued as a bedmate. When I didn't answer, only zipped my bags, he drew his own conclusion, his face growing darker.

          " That bounty hunter," he said in a grimace, " The one you called out to. The one who did this to me." Without warning he reached up and ripped off the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a still healing wound, the place where the shot from Boba's blaster had met his shoulder.

          " Look at this!" he screamed, pointing at the injury, walking to me.

          " I - see," I said, flicking my eyes to the dried blood, the scarred tissue. 

          " This is what he'll do to you, too," Darren promised. " Men like that - they don't care who they hurt."

          He was probably right. 

          " He'll have nothing to do with me anymore," I said. " I'm going away from here, to have the baby alone."

          Darren's eyes jutted busily about and I could see him finding what, to him, would be the easy solution.       

          " Marry me, then," I heard the words before he even said them, because they had formed in my own mind several hours before. I had remembered Darren's affection - his odd, boorish tenderness. But more than that his family's wealth, their station. A husband like Darren could give me everything I wanted, war or no, alive or killed in battle. I would be secure - my baby would have a home.

          But I would have made myself a prosititute.

          " No," I said, " I already belong to someone else."

          " To him," Darren spat, pushing me roughly onto the bed. I bounced there, and then lay flat, waiting. Again a man controlled my destiny - he could destroy me, or set me free. Only Boba had done both at once. Darren's anger subsided when he glanced down at me, surrendered on the bed, unafraid.

          " You said you were ready to die," he reminded me, his voice cracking.

          " I can't claim that anymore," I said, my voice light in an effort to be gentle with him. " I have my child to think about now."

          " Callia," he said, leaning over me, his stomach pressing to mine. " Let me take care of you. I will provide for you and for this other man's child - I will raise it like its my own." I knew this was a lie, that no man could conquer the idea that he was picking up after another's scraps.

          " Darren," I said, " Please let me go."

          " I can't," he said, letting his head fall heavily onto my chest. " I love you," he muttered into my shirt.

          " You don't even know me," I said, carefully pushing on his shoulders until he rolled off of me. 

          " You're making a huge mistake," he said as I reached for my bag.

          Financially, I knew he was right. But I would never be able to live with myself or be true to my child if I married a man I didn't love.

          A less noble part of me also knew that a shallow marriage would mean never seeing Boba again. Sadly, the off chance of meeting him even one more time, of hearing his voice, smelling his skin, was worth a lifetime of riches and safety.

          Darren wouldn't let me go without demanding once again that I observe his ghastly wound - he seemed to think that the pain Boba had caused him would woo me.

          " Look at what the man you love has done to me," he said, nearly crying. I did look, and I walked back to him. At our differing heights, I had to lift my head to reach his shoulder, and on the mass of torn skin I placed the ghost of a kiss. I felt him shudder.

          " I'm so sorry," I whispered into his wound. I was sorry that I wasn't a better, smarter woman - someone who could have perhaps seen Darren as the potential for great love. Rather than the madwoman I was - desiring only to kiss the sick part of him that Boba had touched.

When the last ship off of Corasaunt left the docking bay, I was aboard it. The other passengers were nervous political figures, pacing about the ship and talking to each other in hushed voices. Meanwhile I was an anonymous girl with long hair finally let loose from tight braids, feeling exhilerated in her new civilian clothes.

          I watched Corasaunt disappear behind us, and wondered what would happen to those who weren't lucky enough to get a ride off.

          As the long ride to Geonosis – stopping along the way to drop others off at Alderran and a few other planets – began, I settled into my seat and tried to sleep, but couldn't. My mind still hadn't settled.

          I was free of the army, but forever enslaved by my pregnancy. I was going to have a baby – my brain couldn't quite pound the idea past my forehead. What kind of mother would I be? I had no idea what a real mother was like – was she kind, or was discipline more important? Did showing love for a child come naturally, or would I be at a loss because I'd never received it? How badly would giving birth hurt – and who would help me when the time came?

          What would I tell my child about his father? 

          I shut my eyes – the kind of tight, purposeful pinch that never allows sleep. I felt tears forming and trying to slide past my lashes – I pinched them tighter, not allowing it. I hated that the constant ache in me for Boba had been amplified since I'd found out that I was carrying his child. More than anything I wanted to know what he would think – would he be ashamed of a baby he hadn't mean to create? Would he feel obligated; would he feel sorry for me? Gods – could he possibly be happy about the idea of a son or daugther?

          No – I knew, with an obsene guilt, that Boba had never been happy. And even if he put a saber through the heart of his Jedi assasin, I knew he never would be, until his father had risen from the grave. 

          Which would never happen. I was in love with a man who was completely doomed.

          People on the right side of the ship had left their seats and were crowded around the windows, whispering in what sounded like a guiltily excited terror. I stood slowly and walked over to where they were gathered, peeking under a tall man's arm to have a look at what all the comotion was about. 

          It looked like a giant steele arrow. It was the biggest ship I had ever seen – the sheer size of it as it glided silently past made goosebumps rise on my arms. And the utlilitarian design – it is hard to describe now, when the Imperial Star Destroyers have become so commonplace, but everyone my age remembers the first time they saw one. Before we even knew what they were, they terrified us.

          I heard murmurs in the crowd – 'the Separatists' and 'covert' and 'aggressive.'

          My life grew cold on that long trip back to Geonosis. I could feel the universe shifting around me – the dark things Mace and Boba had warned me about creeping in to suffocate the good in the world.          

          When I saw the red planet where I'd spent both the best and worst days of my life reappear through the windows of the ship, my throat went dry with terror. I was being taken back to the prison of my loneliness. And yet it seemed like the natural place to go – a safe place where I wouldn't be bothered by the emerging powers that Mace feared. A safe place for my child – if either of us could maintain our sanity inside those red canyon walls.

The first couple of days back on Geonosis were alright. I bought a new speeder – much sleeker than the clunky one I'd owned last time I'd lived on the planet. I went to the market and got healthy foods, vowed to learn to cook and to take care of myself while I was carrying my baby. The inside of the cave had fallen into disarray, of course, in the time that I'd been gone, but not as badly as I'd expected. It took me awhile to realize why things hadn't completely gone to seed – someone had been stopping in from time to time.

          Boba.

          The sheets were a mess on our old bed, but they weren't as dusty as they should have been. The kitchen was dirty and in need of a good scrubbing, but pots and kettles were clean and in different places than where I'd left them over a year ago. Packs of the gross jerky that he liked were in the cupboards.

          When I realized that he'd been back, I took a seat on the edge of the bed and let out my breath. I wondered if, the first time he returned, he panicked when he found me gone. I wondered how long he waited, to see if I'd just stepped out to the market. Hours? Days? How long had it taken him to return again – did he expect to find me the second time? And why, as the evidence in the cave suggested, had he continued to return? 

          There were a million questions like this buzzing through my mind in the early stages of my pregnancy. I rarely slept for more than a few hours at a time, and would instead lay awake wondering what would become of us: myself, my baby, and Boba. Some nights I almost expected him to walk in through the cave's entrance, set down his helmut and take me in his arms, maybe make some promises that he wouldn't keep. If there was one evil I couldn't accuse him of it was making empty promises: he had never told me he wouldn't abandon me, he had never said he would be faithful: he had never even told me that he loved me. Not out loud, anyway. And yet I felt constantly betrayed for all of these reasons: he had left me, he had not remained faithful to what I felt was sacred, and he had put his agenda ahead of a love I was as sure of in silence as I would have been had he pledged it a thousand times.


	8. Chapter Eight

My stomach grew. It would sneak up on me some mornings: for long periods it would remain the same size, and then, seemingly all of a sudden, I would notice an increased bulge. I bought a needle and thread from the marketplace and took out the hem of my skirt, then took it out again, and again. For the first time since Boba had left them to me, I enjoyed my surplus of credits: I ate like a Geonosian king: or like a visiting human king on Geonosis might, leaving off the bugs and larve the natives prized. I abandoned meals and simply snacked all day at every craving: on healthy foods, but a glut of them all the same. My arms, muscled from the Republic's training, grew soft again, my ankles thickened considerably – even my face looked rounder when I caught sight of it in a Geonosian's shop window. I smiled to myself that day, happy with my plumper new figure – I had been an pallid-skinned orphan at the mercy of a government-regulated diet, a love-starved waif wasting away, and a hard-edged, stanch Republic pilot, and out of all of my shapes, I preferred the pregnant, heartsick fool: my new body was more comfortable, and because I felt healthy, I was sure that my baby was happily growing fuller, too.

          I couldn't re-adapt to the solitude of the cave's walls: I found myself looking ridiculously forward to going to the market each day, and staying longer and longer at the counter, bothering the Geonosian clerk with chit-chat. I decided that before I was banned from my favorite grocery stand for being an obnoxious chatterbox of a human, I would have to do what I was both dreading and dying to give in to: return to Eulee's bar, where the bounty hunters whose conversations I had once followed obsessively did their drinking. 

          I picked a clear, warm night to make my journey back to the bar, and felt much safer travelling there in my shiny new speeder. I wore a huge, gray man's coat that I'd found at a junk store to hide my pregnancy, figuring that I'd already look out of place enough without my protruding stomach making an appearance.

          " Hey, here she is," Eulee said from behind the counter when I walked in. She was ringing up a customer, but paused to give me, an old regular, a Gragarian grin. " We thought you'd died, blondie." I snorted with a dark laugh in response. 

          " I was gone for awhile," I said, stupidly, embarrassed with the attention in a place where I was usually a silent observor. " But now I'm back."

          " Yeah, so we see," said my usual waitress, a friendly woman with long, dark hair. " Usual table for one?" I nodded. She sat me where she knew I liked to be: close to the larger tables where the hunters gathered.

          There weren't many of them there that night: I knew that most of them would be busy: working, because of all of the double-crossing and assassinating that had been going on in the news before I left Corasaunt, I knew they would be in high demand. The girls looked bored – many of their faces were familiar; Tinka, Dengar's girl, was holding a smoking death stick, drumming her nails on the table, and yawning.

          " Where's Cniala tonight?" another girl asked her. Tinka gave her an uninvolved half-shrug.

          "Probably off with Karmac," she said, taking a drag from the death stick. "He's back from Corasaunt this week." My ears perked up, and I looked up from the steaming stew I'd ordered.

          " Oh yeah," the girl, a homely young woman with short, bluish hair and pale skin, said. "Did he see Dengar while he was there?"

          "Yeah," Tinka said after a pause. I noticed a hint of something more hostile than usual in her tone: she sounded angry at the mention of Dengar's name.

          " Well?" the blue-haired girl prodded, less observant than I was about the fragility of the subject, " How is he?"     

          " Is it really any of your business, Ami?" Tinka snapped, pounding her death stick out into an ashtray on the table.

          " Tinka . . ." Ami said, giving her a sympathetic look. A hunter from the table next to theirs looked up from his card game, put down his hand (much to the displeasure of some of his companions) and walked over to Tinka, placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at first, but after looking up at him softened, and put her face in her hands.

          " Leave me alone," she muttered, her voice small.

          " Hey," the hunter, a thin man with spiked hair, said. "He'll be okay."

          " No he won't," Tinka said, looking up again, flame in her eyes, " He'll never be the same. And he won't see me."

          " Its just his pride, Tinka," the man assured her. " He wants to see you, he really does – but . . ."

          " I told him I don't care," she said, her voice nearly breaking, " I told him I don't care how he looks. I . . . I just want to see him. I miss him." Though she was typically cold and mean-spirited, I felt for the girl then, and heard in her myself, crying the same words in Boba's absence, countless times.

          " And you will," the man promised, " When he's ready." Tinka let out a choppy breath.

          " No," she said, " I know I'll never see him again. Karmac told me – he told me the truth. He – he didn't want to coddle me like this, sugar coat things. He says he's a changed man. He says . . ."

          " Well, then he must have also told you that he and Boba have decided they're not going to keep putting up with this kind of stuff from Garko's boys," he said, and I turned slightly, as if I might catch sight of him after his name had been mentioned. " There are certain things all of us abide by – we don't always play fair with each other – hell, we'll steal right out of each other's hands any chance we get –"

          Some of the hunters, who had abandoned their game and were listening to his pep talk, chuckled and grinned knowingly. 

          " But there are some things that bounty hunters just don't do to each other. Not when real professionals like Karmac and Boba are around, anyway," he told her. 

          " Boba, you said?" Tinka asked, wiping at her eyes. 

          " Yeah, Karmac didn't tell you?" the man said. " He's been helping Dengar since Garko's men attacked him – and he's promised to help Karmac find them and put a stop to all of this sabatoge and gang rule."

          " Really?" she said, brightening, " Boba's gone after them?"

          " Well, he will," the man told him, " And why shouldn't he? Garko's attempts to monopolize the bounty market are hurting his business, too – its about time someone put a stop to this, and who better to do it than Boba? He's made a real name for himself in the city this year . . . gained a real reputation, separate from his dad's. So as soon as Dengar is all healed up, he and Karmac will take care of it."

          " Wait, wait," Tinka said, a tiny smile creeping onto her face. " You mean to say . . . _Boba Fett_ is nursing Dengar back to health?"

          " I wouldn't call it nursing exactly," the man said with a smirk, " I mean, he's not spooning soup into his mouth and tucking him in to bed . . . but he's making sure his condition doesn't get worse, and watching out for him in the meantime."

          " Gah, a Fett lending someone a hand?" one of the hunters at the nearby table scoffed. " Betcha Jango's flippin' in his grave."

          The man nodded. " Boba's got a few different policies. He still works alone, but he doesn't frown completely on some loose alliances. He knows somebody who'll repay a favor when he sees them."

          " Thank the gods for him," Tinka sobbed suddenly. " I know plenty of hunters who would have left a competitor like Dengar to die."

          " How about a little credit for me, too?" a familiar voice boomed from the doorway, and I turned along with the others to see Karmac entering. The others called out his name cheeringly as he approaching – Karmac, I'd gathered over my many visits, was one of the more popular hunters with the crowd at Eulee's. Tinka actually got up and threw her arms around the muscular man's enormous shoulders. He chuckled and gave her a pat on the back, quickly releasing her at the throat-clearing of a petite girl who had followed him in.

          "Cniala," Tinka beamed, hugging her in turn, despite the annoyed look she received. " Has Karmac told you? – Dengar's going to be okay."

          " Yes, its wonderful," Cniala yawned, falling into a seat at the girls' table. " Can I bum a death stick?"

          Tinka handed her a pack without looking and turned back to Karmac, grinning happily.

          " They were telling me that you and Boba have been watching Dengar's back while he's – out of commission, on Corasaunt," she said.

          " We've been doing more than that," Karmac said, sitting. " This thing with Garko has come to a point. We're going to end it – for Dengar, and for all of us who've been tripped up by his agenda in the city."

          Tinka sighed. " I'm sure you will. Garko is a joke compared to the two of you – and his men are no better. Remember that pathetic twit, Pewa?" A green-skinned hunter at the table snicked darkly.

          " Yeah," he said, " I remember the day Boba dropped him on Corasaunt." I turned slightly, trying to see the man at the table without appearing too obvious. Could he be one of the hunters I'd arrested the day I saw Boba? I remembered Pewa being there, and I remembered Boba firing on him that day .  . .

          " I heard about that," Karmac said, beckoning to the waitress. " I'll have the usual," he shouted to her, and she nodded. " What happened, exactly?" he asked when he turned back to the table.

          " Pewa was giving Boba a hard time for beating him to some bounty – something really low-profile, too, something Boba practically stumbled over, it was such a simple job. Nothing to get worked up about at all," the green-skinned man remembered. " Pewa actually had the nerve to draw a blaster – we all had a good laugh over it: Pewa thinking he'd be even remotely threatening to Boba. But that wasn't even what did it." 

The man paused for effect, smiled around at the faces listening to his story.

 " Boba's girl showed up," he said, " And Pewa shot at her. He was dead before he could take his hand off the trigger."

          My heart was racing as I remembered the confusing confrontation in the warehouse – the hunters assuming I was Boba's long-lost love, because of my stupid reaction at seeing him, and the blonde braid he wore on his breat plate.

          Around the table there were whistles and gasps at the idea of Pewa's nerve – and many of the girls exclaimed in surprise at the suggestion of Boba keeping a 'girl' on Corasaunt.

          " What girl was this?" Tinka asked curiously. " I've heard plenty of girls come back from the city bragging that they spent the night with him – but I never got the impression that he had a particular attachment to any given one of them."

          " Was it that meek little thing who wandered in here last year, claiming they'd travelled together?" Ami asked. 

          " I wouldn't call her meek exactly," the green-skinned man said with a laugh, " She was an officer in the Republic army – she showed up guns blazing, ready to arrest him!"

          Both tables erupted in shocked laughter. My cheeks burned, and I couldn't stop my lips from curling into a small smile as well.

          " What?" Tinka said, leaning forward, bothered by this revelation. " Why would Boba take up with some Republic-loving twit?"

          " Who knows," the green-skinned man said with a shrug, " She was a looker, and you got the feeling she wasn't expecting to see him. She got this look on her face like she'd seen a ghost – her commander, a real prick, was having a fit – and Pewa fired on her while she was standing there dumbstruck."

          " So what made you think there was a romance there?" Ami asked, obviously enjoying this little comedy of errors. " Just because Boba killed Pewa after he fired at the girl? He was probably going to kill him anyway."

          " Maybe so," green-skin conceded, " But have you ever noticed that braid that Boba wears on his armor – hanging down from his shoulder?"

          Tinka and Ami exchanged a look, signalling that it had been discussed many a time.

          " We thought," Ami said, " That it was maybe from that waif who showed up here and told us they'd had a fling." I smiled into my soup at her accurate observation – these girls knew almost as much about Boba as I did.

          " I'm not sure," green-skin said, " But this girl's hair was blonde, too, and she and Boba definitly knew each other. I've never seen Fett flinch – not at blaster fire, not at jumping out a tenth-story window with a bounty in tow – but when he saw that girl, it was like something made his heart stop. He _flinched_."

          " Well, well," Ami said with a satisfied grin, sitting back. " Luna'd just die with jealousy! Does she still ask you about Boba?" she asked Karmac.

          " I haven't worked for her again," Karmac said. " I'm too scared she'll find out I was withholding information about him before, since I'm sure she's found out by now that he's been working again."

          " Oooh, big bad Karmac scared of a little Alderraanian princess!" Cniala teased.

          " Princess nothing," Karmac scoffed, unembarrassed. " You don't know Luna. Anyway, I did tell Boba that she'd been asking about him."

          " Oh, what'd he say?" Ami squealed, eating up the gossip. 

          " He got a sort of thoughtful look on his face, and told me to tell her he wasn't interested in a reunion," Karmac said.

          Alone at my table, my heart soared.

          " And I said, you don't tell Luna Organa no, or at least, you don't if you value your life," Karmac continued. " And I asked him why he wasn't into her, because you know, for all the drooling these gals do over Boba, (he flicked at thumb at Ami and Tinka here) Luna's probably equal to him in terms of desirabilty to the opposite sex."

          " What he say??" Ami demanded again, nearly bursting with the pleasure of gleaning new information about Boba. I was listening intently as well: well, Boba? Why not?

          " You know the famous closed-lip Fetts," Karmac said, waving a hand in the air and accepting his drink from the waitress. " He didn't exactly get into it. Just said he remembered Luna as a seven year old kid who used to sneak jawa juice from the cooler with him while his father was sleeping. Said that they had a short friendship as kids but that he hadn't seen her since and didn't plan to again."

          " Oh," Ami said, deflating. " How boring."

          Though I was satisifed with this, my heart sunk a bit – I secretly, of course, wanted Boba to announce to all of these people - who surely thought I was a dull, creepy loner – that I was the one, true love of his life, and that it was his upspoken devotion to me that kept him from chasing Alderaanian princess-tail. 

          Naturally, this would never happen, so, fulfilled for the evening with my share of limited human contact, I paid for my dinner, thanked Eulee, and headed home.

          All the way back on the dark ride home, a longing for Boba blossomed in me – a new sort of longing, born from the words of those in the tavern who, sadly, knew him better than I did then. I was pleased by the idea of Boba watching out for Dengar, the charming man who I remembered holding Tinka in his lap at the tavern. The other hunters seemed surprised that Jango Fett's son could show the occasional smidgen of compassion, and I told myself, rather grandly, that this had grown out of the time he spent growing up alongside me. The hunters knew Jango, but they didn't know that Boba had also spent his youth in the company of a twiggy, starry-eyed little girl, who maybe taught him a thing or two about friendship and warmth, if not in the days she played beside him as a child, at least when she curled up asleep in his arms as a teenager.

          I arrived back at the cave feeling rather proud of myself, and of Boba, too, for sacrificing a bit of his all-important hard-ass image to help out a fellow hunter. 

          As I was undressing, I felt something stirring inside me – at first I assumed it was just the weird pressure of sexual desire – I'd been extremely susceptible to strange bouts of it since I'd become pregnant – but then I realized that it was actually something physical moving inside me, not just my hunger for one thing or another drawing my attention to my mid-section.

          My baby was moving. 

          My knees grew weak and I sat gently down on the bed. The movement had been the tiniest flutter, and yet it stopped me in my tracks. I placed a hand over my stomach and waited, almost holding my breath, for another tiny shudder – when the baby kicked again I cried out in a giggly sort of joy, tipped my head back and grinned enormously at the ceiling of the cave. It was a moment of happiness so pure that tears snuck into the corners of my eyes – but it quickly dissolved to loneliness when it washed over me that I had no one to share this with. No loving partner to call over and share in my happy surprise. The emptiness of the cave gaped back at me in the near-darkness, and with a heavy heart, I blew out the last of the candles that had lit my makeshift bedroom, and climbed under the covers.

          " I know I'm not really alone," I whispered, directing the words to my stomach. "You're here with me," I said to my baby, rubbing the bulge that was the evidence of him gentley. " We have each other."

          Lying awake then as I often did, my sympathetic feelings toward Boba evaporated somewhat, and I couldn't help resenting the fact that he was taking care of someone else while I, pregnant with his child, was curled alone into the bed we once shared. Who would care for me when I became too heavy to make to climb into my speeder for a trip to the market? Who would hold my hand when the labour pains started rolling over me – who would help me deliver my baby?

          I pulled the covers up over my head and pinched my eyes shut tight.

          " I'll figure something out," I promised our unborn child in a whisper through the darkness.

But when the time came when it was hard for me to struggle into the speeder with my giant stomach and exhasted body, no grand plan had surfaced. Time gets away from you when you're living alone in a cave, so I really had no idea how far along I was – I could have been eight months along or two weeks overdue, for all I knew. On my final trip into town with my huge belly, I knew what I had to do: ask for someone's help. But I had no idea where to go to find it.

          When I reached the market I loaded the speeder up with as much food as I could fit in its limited space: loads of bread, fruit, and plenty of Bantha milk. My hands were shaking as I purchased extra sheets and towels from a vendor near the coleseum. _I can't do this_, I kept thinking, _I can't do this alone_. The image of those towels and sheets soaked with my blood made my cheeks go white, and I turned toward the Geonosian shopkeeper with the intention of asking her where I could find someone who had any kind of knowledge of human medicine, but I was met by the usual unfriendly Geonosian expression, and I couldn't get the question out. I paid for the linens and left.

          What else? I thought, gliding past the stores near the market, racking my brain for anything my baby and I might need. I had no idea when I'd be able to make it to the market next, how long a woman felt too weak to get out of bed after she gave birth.

          A dark thought trickled through my mind and I shuddered: if I survive that part.

          Suddenly it hit me, and I couldn't believe that it hadn't before – it was so obvious that I almost laughed.

          I would die in the same way my mother had. 

          My hands started shaking so violently that I had to put the speeder down. I covered my face with them – they felt clammy with sweat from my nervousness. I remembered pondering over this before – how alike Boba and I were in the repeated fate of our dead parents. Boba off flying around in his father's armor, me alone, pregnant, and as good as dead for all the chance I had of surviving my pregnancy.

          Before I could completely collapse with fear, I let myelf realize what I had to do: I had to ask for help from the only humans I had found on the planet – those at Eulee's tavern. It was a terrifying idea: they were friendly with each other, but in general they were a rough bunch, and I doubted they would jump at the chance to hand out charity to a stranger. I knew my only hope was with the girls, and though I was almost certain they would brush me off as a pathetic lunatic, I had to try, for my baby's sake. 

          My ride toward the tavern was the closest I'd had on my new speeder to a shaky one – my trembling, sweaty hands could hardly keep their grip on the controls. When I reached the ghost town where the tavern was located, it looked very different: I had never been there during the daytime, and the dusty, hollowed out buildings that stared me down as I approached the tavern seemed more threatening than they did under the cover of darkness. I hurriedly pushed my way inside.

          The place was nearly empty, and my heart started, afraid that none of the usual females would be hanging around during the daytime. But when my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the place I saw them: sitting in the corner, looking as if they were about to nod off, were Tinka, Cniala and another girl I didn't recognize, who had pointed ears and dark purple hair pulled back in a braid. Tinka and Cniala were smoking in silence; the third girl was examining a row of braclets on her arm, moving them in the light so that they sparkled.

          Eulee greeted me boredly and told me I could seat myself, that Rikki – the waitress, I gathered – wasn't working. My heart sank – Rikki had always seemed kind to me, and I had assumed she would be my best bet for a little bit of help. I nodded at Eulee and walked slowly to my small table in the corner, my heart rate increasing when Tinka glanced up and cast a disinterested look at the new customer.

          " What'll it be, anyway?" Eulee called from the counter.

          " W-what?" I stuttered.

          " You didn't order anything," Eulee reminded me dryly.

          " Oh," I said, embarrassed. " J-just some Wattu sticks, please."

          " Sure kid," Eulee muttered with a groan, heading for the kitchen in the back and grumbling about my recent patronage – I never ordered alcohol anymore.

          " Geez, wattu sticks," I heard Cniala mutter. " Is the food here really that good?"

The purple-haired woman snickered. 

          " A-actually," I said, turning and telling myself it was now or never. Facing the girls was frightening – they all stared at me like I was some sort of bizarre alien. " I came here to ask you all something."

          " Ask us something?" Tinka said, looking around at the other two. " What?" she snapped.

          " I – I need your help," I said, my voice nearly cracking. " Someone's help. I live alone – and, and I'm pregnant – and – I'm going to have the baby soon. I don't know what to do." I had to stop talking, before I began crying out of desparation and unbelievable embarrassment. Eulee choose this moment to fly over to my table and drop a basket of wattu sticks in front of me.

          " No kidding you're pregnant," she said, looking down at my stomach, which I hadn't bothered to conceal on this trip. " You look like you're ready to drop any moment."

          " Please," I said, looking from her to the girls, " There must be someone on this planet who can help me . . ."

          " Don't look at me," Eulee said, holding up her hands. " I don't know anything about human birth and I don't want to," she said with a disgusted shudder. " Bad engineering, if you ask me. But there's an orphanage on one of our moons – Corinth, I think – that's been known to help out girls like you –"

          " No," I said quickly, the idea of following exactly in my mother's footsteps, returning to the orphanage as a spector of Callia Antilles the first, seeming as impossible as delievering the baby myself. " I can't do that. Its not an option." Eulee shrugged and flew back over to the counter, began wiping down the bar with a rag. I looked back to Tinka and the other girls.

          " Um," Tinka said, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. " No thanks."

          " Please," I begged, " I'll pay you. I have plenty of money."

          " That's great, but I don't need money," Tinka assured me. " And anyway I hate blood." I glanced to Cniala and the other woman, but they just looked purposefully away.

          " You must know someone who could help me," I said, letting the tears fall from my eyes.

          " Nope," Tinka said coldly, " We don't exactly associate with mid-wives. Sorry." She gave me an icy look. " Anyway, what's your deal? You come in here all the time, acting all superior, sitting alone, like you're better than us, and now you want our help?" She scoffed. " Sorry sister."

          " I never thought I was better than you!" I told her. " I only . . . I guess I was shy, I didn't feel like I was welcome . . . at your table."

          " Well, you're not," she assured me. " So just buzz off. I'm sorry you got knocked up, but that's life."

          When she turned around, I knew what I had to do, though the idea of it was more terrifying than simply begging as an anonymous loser.

          " What if," I began, pinching my eyes shut and squeezing out a few more tears. " What if I told you it was Boba Fett's baby." Tinka whirrled around and glared at me.

          " Oh please!" she said. " You've heard us – _eavesdropped_ on us – talking about Boba, so you're trying to use him in this? Ha!"

          " You don't believe me," I said, with a tiny, dark laugh, wiping some tears from my cheeks, " Of course. I didn't expect you to." I stood up, and walked to her table. She sneered at me. 

          " Even if it is Boba's kid," she said, " What do I care? He's probably got a boat load of them by now, but that's the way it goes when you fool around with Boba Fett. You don't exactly expect him to be a doting father, if you know what I mean." The other two at the table laughed.

          " Alright, fair enough," I said, steeling myself, my heart sunken. " But please. I'm begging you. From a desparate woman, please, tell your friend Karmac to deliever a message for me. Or anyone who might see Boba."

          I waited, and she seemed to be listening, though her expression hadn't softened.

          " Please try to get him this message. If he doesn't care, you can all have a good laugh about the girl who thought she meant something to Boba Fett . . . but even so, please let him know that Calli is pregnant." I stopped here to sob, but pressed on, my voice shaking. " Please tell him that she's on Geonosis, and she's pregnant, and she needs help." Here I had to break off, because I was crying too hard, hurting too deeply at what I had come to, at the almost amused disbelief on Tinka's face. I stood up, whispered a barely audible 'thank you' through my tears, threw some money onto the counter for Eulee, and pushed out the doors, back into the harsh sunlight and broken buildings of the abandoned town.

Almost two weeks later, when my food was running low, when the last jug of Bantha milk was halfway gone in the cooler, I woke early to a startling pain.

          " Please no," I whispered, praying that it was only a dream. Days had passed by, I had grown only more certain of my impending doom at the hands of my own body, and no word had come from Boba, no well-meaning villagers had shown up at the mouth of the cave with a human doctor. I was utterly alone, and when I looked down, the pain registering as real and as originating in my stomach region, I noticed that the sheets were soaked.

          My water had broken.

          " No, no, no," I chanted under my breath. " Not yet," I warned my baby, though I myself didn't know what I was waiting for. Another wave of pain rolled over me and I fell back onto my pillows, letting out a gargled scream. My eyes shifted from the side of the bed to my speeder, waiting at the entrance of the cave. I wondered if I had time. Time to make it to the orphanage and at least save my baby. My mother had made it – why not me? 

          And so I resolved to give in to the same forces Boba had welcomed, and let the past repeat itself.

          I pulled myself out of the bed – it was hard to get my legs to work, and when the contractions came I would have to stop in my tracks, crumbling onto the floor in pain. By the time I reached the speeder they were coming faster, with less time to take steps in between. I fell against the side of the vehicle and cried, knowing that I could never propel myself into the thing in the state I was in. I let myself fall to the floor instead, and pinched my eyes shut and wailed in pail – I had thought I would be able to handle this, to pull my mind from the physical and keep myself sane and in control throughout the process. I was dead wrong – my concious reasoning evaporated, and all I could think about or feel was the extreme pain, mixed with the terror that something was wrong with my baby, that the mind-numbing pain was worse than it should be, not normal. _This can't be normal_, I thought, in between gasping breaths on the cold floor of the cave – _this sort of torture can't be natural_.

          Having given up on the idea of getting into the speeder, I tried desparately to at least crawl back to my bed, and reach the extra towels and sheets that I had laid beside it. It was a slow process, and by the time I reached the bed I knew I would never be able to climb into it. Instead I tried to spread out the towels and sheets onto the floor – after a messy pile had been formed by my shaking hands, I fell onto it, defeated.

          " I'm sorry," I said in a choked whisper through my pain, speaking to my baby. " My idiocy has killed us both. I made sure we'd die here waiting for him." I sobbed and curled into a ball on the sheets, giving up, letting the pain take me.

          " Callia," someone suddenly said, with almost a tone of anger. I turned, opening my eyes and trying to find the woman who had spoken. What my eyes met was certainly a delusion, though at the time, in my barely concious state, I was sure it was the ghost of my mother. She was a small, blonde woman, with my nose, small shoulders and pale skin. " You've got to help me here. Don't give up. Help me. Help me get you on the bed. Come on, stand up. _Get up_."

          I let the spector of my mother lift me under my arms, and used my weak, shaking legs to propel myself toward the bed. When she dropped me there I realized she wasn't my mother at all – but actually a large, green Twi'lek woman wearing a white apron. She efficiently positioned me on the bed, and motioned to other Twi'lek women, who were suddenly filling the cave, to pat my forehead with washclothes and tilt my head back so that I could drink something.

          " It might be too late for the pain medication to take effect," she said. " Ipa only told us this morning that her friend needed help. We got here as soon as we could."

          " Ipa?" I muttered, sure then that I was hallucinating the whole thing – possibly even dead already.

          " I'm here, my Meniska!" I heard my old friend's voice call, and she poked her head around the shoulders of the nurses who were working around my bed. " I told you that I would repay you when you needed help the most!" she reminded me. " I was meditating last night and I saw you in pain in my vision. I got our best royal physicians and midwives, and we left for Geonosis as soon as we could! I've told them all about your bravery and what you did for me –"

          The green Twi'lek, who seemed to be the head nurse, barked something at her in what I guessed was the Twi'lek language, and Ipa slunk away.

          " Alright," she said, returning to my language. " Like I said, Callia, we're going to need your help. Its almost time for you to push." 

          I groaned in pain and jerked in the bed, prompting two nurses to rush over and hold my arms gentley in place.

          " Fine!" I screamed, " Just get this thing out of me!" All sentimental feelings toward the baby were momentarily lost.

          " Not yet," the head nurse warned. " Wait just a bit longer."

          " Ughh, why?" I moaned, " To torture me further?"

          The nurses muttered together in their language, and I was sure they were proclaiming me less noble than Ipa had described, but I didn't care. I cursed and turned against their grips as they held my arms in place.

          " Mother, mother," I cried, " Where did she go? I want my mother!"

          " I'm sorry, but we're the best you've got," the head nurse snapped, " Now I need you to push, Callia."

          I tried as hard as I could, but I was weak and frustrated, and she instructed me to push harder.

          " Unnh, I can't!" I shrieked, but I tried again.

          I heard something very loud going on on the other side of the cave, and some of the nurses turned to see what it was as a warm breeze moved over the bed.

          " What's that?"

          " Another of our ships?"

          " We only brought one," the head nurse said, still concentrating on me. " Push now!" she said, " Again, there. Anyway, if it was one from our party they would have parked outside with our ship. Ipa will take care of it, ladies, now concentrate. Push again now, Callia."

          " I AM!" I shrieked. " I'm pushing, nothing's happening!"

          The head nurse seemed to have resolved to ignore my comments from then on, and didn't respond. I could hear Ipa talking to a man on the other side of the cave, and his Twi'lek accent was missing, so I wondered if she'd found a human doctor to attend me. At the moment I was projecting my horrible pain onto the Twi'lek nurses, and wishing them away, so I was heartened by the idea of new help. Later, when my faculties returned, I would realize I owed my life to them.

          Instead of a doctor, Ipa poked her head through the barrier of nurses again along with a face I would normally have been overjoyed to see, but which, that day, was immediately damned to the dimensional hells.

          " Boba," I growled. " Oh, how dare you – uhhhhh! – show your face here!"

          " Calli," he said, staring down at me, " I . . . I . . ." Not only had I never seen Boba at a loss for words, I had never, and would never again, see him look frightened. But at the sight of me spread on our bed and surronded by blood, covered in sweat and thrashing in pain, he looked utterlly terrified.

          " Shut up, shut up!" I railed at him. " You have nothing to say to me – you – uh-huhhhhhh! You – you bastard – off, off doing who know – arrrghhhh! – who knows what and sticking me with this thing, leaving me –" 

          " Push, Calli!" the heard nurse continued throughout this string of obsenities, " Push hard now! You're almost done!"

          " Calli I'm so sorry," Boba cried, reaching for my arm with a hand that was still gloved in armor. " I didn't know – I had no idea – they just told me – I came as fast as I could, as soon as I heard –"

          At this point I was beyond insulting Boba, though I wanted to punch his lights out for suddenly appearing to give a damn about me. All I could do was wail in pain and push, push, as the head nurse demanded, until she started telling me excitedly that she could see the head. 

          " Well grab it!" I screamed, " Get it out!"

          " One more push, Calli," she said, " Just one more and its all over."

          I sobbed at the very thought of the pain ending, and shook my head.

          " I can't, I can't," I said, exhasted. " I'm too tired, I can't do it anymore."

          " Yes you can!" the head nurse shouted. She glared at Boba. " You're the father?" she shouted. He nodded, wide-eyed.

          " Then encourage her!" she screamed at him.

          " Calli," he said, lowering his lips to my ear. " You can do it." His lips were trembling.

          If Boba Fett can be scared, I thought with an exhasted sigh, then I guess Callia Antilles can be strong. I pushed, hard, once more, screaming from the pit of my stomach as I did.

          I heard a baby crying, and though my body was still in agony, the thought of the pain snapped away. The nurses were busying themselves with the new arrival, my baby, cutting the umbillical cord, cleaning him, and all the while I was reaching for him while Ipa bounced around happily, shouting, 'it's a boy!'.

          " There we are, there we are," the head nurse said, craddling him and finally handing him to me. I forgot Boba, the Twi'leks, everyone in the room and everything in the world when my baby was in my arms. He was tiny, red, and crying at the top of his lungs. He had a tiny tuft of black hair, Boba's handsome features, my pale skin, and, when he finally opened them as the crying subsided, my blue eyes. I cuddled him to me and cried on his tiny head, kissed his cheeks, and beamed around the room with happiness as the nurses began to clean up. Boba sat at my side, staring down at our baby, dumbstruck, tilting his head from side to side as if to try and comphrehend this tiny creature. 

          Ipa plopped down on the other side of the bed and began cooing over the baby and his cute-ness, asking me what I would name him.

          " I, I don't know," I said, " I think Boba Jr. is out of the question," I said, giving Boba a look. He managed a shaky smile. " What do you think?" I asked him.

          " You want me to name him?" he asked me in disbelief.

          " Well," I said, still a little annoyed with him despite the fact that my pain was fading. " You are his father."

          Boba looked taken aback by this fact, and scooted a bit closer to the baby and I, slowly taking off his gloves, untying his breastplate, and reaching down to remove the rest of his armor. Ipa took the hint, kissed both the baby and I on the forehead, and got up to leave.

          " Ipa," I said, before she could go. " You saved my life, and my baby's. I don't know how to thank you –"

          " Please," Ipa said, holding up a hand, " There is no need for thanks. We are sisters in fate, and because you saved my life, there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you." She smiled. " We'll talk later," she said, joining the nurses, who were tsking at my nearly empty pantry and making a list of market goods the baby and I would need. I looked back to Boba, who was studying our baby carefully.

          " I only just found out this morning that you were pregnant," he said, " Karmac had just come back to Corasaunt the night before; he went out drinking, and when he came home at dawn he mentioned that there was a girl on Geonosis who said she was going to have my baby . . . he thought it was a joke or something. I turned on my heels the moment he said it, Calli, got my ship and flew here. I'm so sorry – I'm so sorry. If these people hadn't been here . . . I might have been too late . . ."

          " Boba," I said, " I want to be angry with you . . . but there was no way for you to know. I'm just glad he told you in time . . . for you see to our son be born." I nuzzled our baby to me, and was surprised when Boba, who so far seemed put off by the presense of the infant, reached forward to stroke his tiny head.

          " Yeah, our son," he said, smiling, " My son," he laughed a little bit, " Not even a clone. A real son. And he has black hair." He looked up into my eyes. " Like me."

          " Boba," I said, smiling, any resentment toward him lifting. " Well," I snapped my eyes away from him, determined not to be taken in again, to let myself believe he might stay this time. " Any idea for a name?"

          " I always liked the name Wedge," Boba said with a shrug.

          " Wedge?" I said with a laugh. Not my first choice, but better, I supposed, than what I'd feared he might suggest: Jango II. " Wedge, then," I said, smooching his little nose. Boba laid down beside me, and we stayed there on the pillows of our old bed for some time, staring with disbelief and pride at our son, Wedge Antillies.

          " How do you know Karmac, anyway?" Boba asked after some time, when little Wedge had fallen asleep in my arms. 

          " Oh, long story," I said, deciding I could keep some mystery for myself, too. Boba smirked and gave me a look.

          " You know," he said, " You're kind of amazing." I scoffed. 

          " How so?"

          " I mean," he said, " I don't know. I showed up here, worried you'd be dying alone in labour, and here you have this whole team of Twi'leks caring for you – not to mention one who says you saved her life – I guess there's a lot I don't know about you, Calli."

          I laughed at the fact that he could misconstrue this unbelievable stroke of luck as something I'd carefully arranged for myself – but I let him make the mistake. It was true, though, that he knew about as much about my life in the present as I did about his, maybe even less thanks to the information I had from the tavern's customers.

          " Well," I said, looking away from him, back to Wedge's sleeping features, " I guess its just too bad you didn't take the time to learn my secrets. We could have been amazing together."

          He was quiet for a moment, and then gingerly draped an arm over me, and around the tiny bundle of Wedge in my arms. He scooted closer and pressed his face against the nape of my neck, a breath away from the tiny baby.

          " I think," he whispered, " We're pretty amazing together anyway. I mean," he reached up to smooth the tiny black hairs on Wedge's head. " Look what we did without even trying." I buried my face against the top of his head, pressed my nose into his mop of curly hair and breathed him in.

          _Oh Boba_, I thought, not daring to speak it. _I give in, you've got me. Please don't go_.


	9. Chapter Nine

Amazingly, and to my constant, baited-breath disbelief, he didn't. Boba stayed that night, while the nurses gave me detailed baby-care instructions – Ipa explained that, to be effective in the care of visiting diplomats, Ryloth's royal medical staff was well-trained in the care of over 100 (politically high-ranking) spiecies. He stayed while Ipa and I had tea and she explained her conversion, upon returning to her home planet, to the priestess-hood. After her near-death experience she had a spiritual awakening, and had been working toward religious enlightenment ever since.

          " Of course," she said, smiling at me, " This was all fated to happen, my awakening. Without my strict meditation schedule and new awareness of the universe, I would not have sensed your pain on the day Wedge was born."

          " You know," said Boba, who was rummaging through the food stores in the kitchen, now replenished at the hands of the nurses, who had gone home the day before. " The Jedi would call that 'using the Force'."

          Ipa shrugged. " I never had much use for the Jedi religion. They claim Pacifism, but they are quick to fight, and quick to judge." Boba clamped his hands on Ipa's shoulders and looked at me.

          " My kind of girl," he said with a grin. I rolled my eyes.

" My brother is a Jedi working on Corasaunt, and he has recently been called to war," Ipa said as Boba left the kitchen with his snack. " We've had long debates – well, feroucious arguments – over the family dinner table reguarding his role as a warrior. The Twi'lek religion – the order I've pledged my life to – calls for strict Pacifism in all situations."

" So the war has begun?" I said with a frown, feeling suddenly very separate from the rest of the world. I thought of Darren, and wondered if he had seen battle yet.

          " Yes," Ipa said. " Some would say it began here more than ten years ago, when Dooku first revealed himself to be a Separatist leader."

          I bristled at the name of the man who was responsible for the death of my parents.

          " It has been a cold war since then," Ipa said, sipping her tea, " Perched on the very edge of combat for years – but now the real conflict has begun. Ryloth has managed to stay out of it so far," she told me. " And I pray every night that we will be able to remain neutral." She gave me a look that told me she wasn't sure that was possible.

 " There are dark forces behind the Separatists," she said, echoing Mace's claim that the Sith were fueling the movement. " And I fear for the galaxy, for all of us." She cast a glance toward Wedge's crib, where the baby was sleeping soundly.

          I stood up, went to the crib myself, and looked down at my slumbering son. I remembered Mace's premonition, that my child would offer some hope against the coming forces of darkness. I touched Wedge's back softly and prayed that Mace was wrong. I didn't want my son to face the horror of war. I turned to look at Boba, sitting at the mouth of the cave munching on jerky, and remembered his premature experience with the horrible battle that had killed his father.

          I walked over, sat down beside him, and let him drape an arm around my shoulders and pull me closer. For a moment I thought of asking him what he was doing here – how long did he plan to stay? My insides were constantly churning with the possibility that he might leave, and yet I was terrified to bring it up – I almost felt that if I just kept quiet, maybe he wouldn't notice he was staying.

          " Have you been to visit your father's grave since you've been back?" I asked him. He shook his head. " Maybe we could go tonight," I said, " Before the sun goes down. I mean, if you want to. I wish – I wish I had a place to go, to visit my father. I don't know where he's buried – somewhere on Corasaunt, I guess. I remember my mother's grave at the orphanage – how you used to go with me when I brought flowers. I – always appreciated that."

          He turned and kissed my cheek. " Sure," he said. " I guess I've been avoiding it since I've been back. Because – well. I'm ashamed to face his spirit. I have nothing to show him in the way of avenging his death." He looked down at his hands.

          Something swelled in me – maybe, I thought, maybe this is where we can end all of this. I tried to quickly come up with a few well-placed words that would convince Boba that devoting his life to revenge wasn't what his father would have wanted. Of course, from what I'd heard of Jango, that was probably exactly what the man wanted from his son, but maybe in death his enlightened spirit would have seen the error of his hard-edged life on earth, and wouldn't have wanted his son to waste his life on anger and regret.

          I opened my mouth but couldn't get the words out – I was too afraid they would rub him the wrong way and send him running off again to find the Jedi who had done the deed. Instead I rubbed his back and said, " We'll take my speeder. It'll be a little less conspicuous than _Slave 1_." He offered a small smile, and nodded.

          As we were getting ready to go, something occurred to me – another stop we could make on our little journey out of the cave. A smile crept across my lips.

          " Ipa," I called, " Would you mind keeping an eye on Wedge for a few hours?"

          " No problem," she said with a smile, " Mind if I ask why?"

          " Oh," I said, grinning, " Boba and I will be out for a bit. Visiting some old friends."

The sun was going down as we reached Jango's grave. Boba climbed out of the speeder and approached the boulder that shadowed Jango's makeshift gravestone. He knelt down, brushed the sand away, and gazed for a long time at his father's name, scrawled there by himself as a child.

          I climbed out of the speeder after him, and walked slowly to the gravestone of the man who had been Boba's father – sort of. In the truest sense, Jango was just the man Boba was cloned from. But I knew that Jango must have treated Boba like a son, or Boba's undying devotion to his memory would not remain so strong.

          I thought about how it must feel to be a clone, to have no parents, not even dead ones that you had no memory of. To be the legacy of just one man, born not of a union but of a single image.

          " Dad," I heard Boba whisper, shutting his eyes. He turned back to me. " I wish he was alive, to see his grandson. I think – I mean, I wonder if he would be proud of me."

          " Of course he would, Boba," I said, " You're an extremely respected hunter – he would be happy that you were living up to his own reputation." Of course, I was less than happy about it myself, but it was true. 

          " But," Boba said. " I have you and Wedge – I have attachments. I have friends – Dengar and Karmac, friends that I wouldn't betray. I don't think he would approve of that."

          " Isn't it wise to have some alliances in the business?" I asked, thinking of the respectful way the hunters at the tavern had viewed Boba and Karmac's pledge to avenge whatever had been done to Dengar by someone called Garko. " You don't want to have everyone hating you, right?"

          " Dad would say," Boba said, " Its better to have everyone fear you. But I guess he did have some allies. There was a woman – well – a Clawdite, who looked like a human woman when Dad was around. I guess she figured transforming into a beautiful woman would be the quickest way to win him over. Anyway, she was around a lot when I was young . . . I liked her. She and Dad worked together. But . . ." he stopped for a moment, and sighed. 

" He had to kill her one day, when she betrayed us. She was going to give his name to some Jedi – one of the Jedis that later tracked him down and tried to kill him. And he had to kill her." He looked up at me. " I know if I had to, I could do the same thing to someone I believed to be a friend who had betrayed me. But . . . not you, Calli. I could never – I mean no matter what – and the same goes for our son."

I almost laughed out loud: was this the way Boba Fett said 'I love you': I won't kill you?

" Boba," I said, " Stop worrying. Wedge and I aren't about to give your name to any Jedi."

" But what if," he said, standing, running his hands frantically through his hair, " I mean, what if they had Wedge, and would kill him if you didn't?"

" Boba!" I said, " Stop it. No one is trying to kill us, or betray you, or any of that nonsense."

" How do you know?" he asked.

" _We live in a cave_, Boba," I reminded him dryly. " On an outer rim planet where, yes, a horrible battle once took place, but where there hasn't been much action in years. You might be a big deal in Corasaunt, but here, nobody cares. All the Geonosians want to do is eat bugs and watch executions. They don't have any secret bounty hunter elimination agendas. Trust me."

Boba sighed, and looked back to his father's final resting place. " I just feel like I'm doing everything wrong," he said.

" Boba," I said, " Don't you think your father would have sacrificed himself for you, his son? He was breaking his own rule when he took you under his wing."

" I don't know," Boba muttered. " Maybe."

" Look," I said, taking his arm. " No one is going to hurt our son. I won't let them. And don't worry about me – I can take care of myself. There's no need to worry about us." He closed his eyes.

" I need a drink," he muttered. I grinned.

" I was hoping you'd say that," I said. Boba made a confused face.

" You were?"

" Yep," I said, pulling him back toward the speeder. " I know just the place."

When we got back in the speeder I took the controls and piloted us toward the ghost town, and Eulee's bar. The sun had gone down, and there was a crowd that was beginning to gather – the place looked lively, and with Boba by my side, I felt completely different than I had the last time I'd made the trip there. I'd also been careful to try and make myself look great before we left – not the usual vagabond clothing and messy hair stuffed into a bun. I wore my hair down, neatly combed, silky smooth and curled at the ends, and wore my most (okay, only) stylish shirt and skirt, things I'd bought on Corasaunt for a post-graduation dinner.

" What's this place?" Boba asked, climbing out of the speeder.

" Its popular with bounty hunters," I said, " Thought maybe you'd like it." I decided not to mention that Tinka and the others had been nasty to me a few weeks before and that I wanted to really rub her face in the fact that I actually knew Boba – I figured just seeing me with him would be enough.

Boba shrugged. " Sounds okay," he said.

I don't think I've ever held my chin so high as I did that night, walking through the doors of the tavern with Boba at my side. The bar was packed to the gills with hunters, smugglers and other various riff-raff, but, most importantly, all of the groupies – Tinka included – were at their usual table.

The first one to catch sight of us was Eulee, who gave us a huge Gragarian grin. 

" Hey!" she said, " Here's our girl without her big belly! I guess you had your kid?"

" Yep," I said. " He's fine, I'm fine, everything's great." I was beaming. Behind me, Boba yawned and waved to a few hunters who seemed to recognize him.

" So is this the outlaw husband you've told us about?" she asked, peering around at Boba. My cheeks burned when I remembered the lie I told the first time I'd come to the bar – I was afraid Boba would think I'd been going around telling people we were married.

" That's me," he said without missing a beat. " I'll have a Vistulo, if you've got them."

" Sure do," Eulee said, happy to break out the expensive liquer. " And you, hon?"

" Just a Veronian wine, please," I said. 

" I'll have Rikki bring them over. Go ahead, your usual table is empty."

" Thanks, Eulee," I said, and led Boba over to my corner table, though I knew we wouldn't make it there. Sure enough, some more hunters spotted him and called out his name.

" Ey, Boba!" the red, fish-like hunter, who I'd come to know as Werrell, cried out. " Over here, we've got an extra seat!"

By now Tinka's - and the rest of the girls' - eyes were on us, and even though she was trying to play it cool, I could see that she was boiling. Some of the other girls were less concerned with their images, and waved and called out to Boba, giggling excitedly over his celebrity.

" Hey Werrell, Oity," Boba said, waving to several others. " Have you got two seats?" he asked, placed a hand on my waist. I nearly melted with the satisfaction of Tinka's stare, which was glued to the two of us.

" I'll just sit on your lap," I offered sweetly, and loud enough for the girls to hear. 

" Lucky girl," I heard someone whisper.

" Hey Tinka," another girl said, " Was she the one you were talking about, who said she was –" 

" Shut _up_, Chima," Tinka snapped. " Hey," she called, and I realized, with some surprise, that she was talking to me.

" Yeah?" I said, as Boba pulled me into his lap, and laughed with the other men at the several comments of surprise that he got at being seen without his armor.

" Look," she said. " Whether I believed you or not, I did give the message to Karmac. And it looks like it worked."

I shrugged. " Yeah," I said, " So? What do a want – a thank you?" I scoffed. 

Tinka gave me an annoyed look. " Maybe I don't deserve that exactly," she said, and I couldn't believe the difference in her tone, now that she was talking to me on Boba's lap. " But, well. They're kind of boring . . . I mean, they mostly talk about guns. So . . . why don't you come sit with us?"

I considered it for a moment, turned back to the table to find them indeed asking Boba what kind of guns he had used to take down Garko's gang, and decided to forgive her and join the girls.

" Alright," Tinka said, patting my shoulder as I sat down. The other girls at the table stared at me with a mixture of awe and furious jealousy. I suspected what they were thinking when they were looking at me was something along the lines of: a human encyclopedia of Boba information.

" My name is Calli," I said, figuring that was a good enough start. Tinka went around the table introducing all of the other girls.

" So all that time, this boring little thing that sat alone in the corner is Boba Fett's best girl," Chima said with a sigh. " Who'd have thunk it."

The girls quizzed me for most of the night on all things Boba. Did I know he had slept with other women? Well, yes. How long had we been together? Hard to say. 

" Is he as great in bed as everyone says?" Chima finally gushed toward the end of the evening.

I made a prim face. " I'm not one to kiss and tell," I said, letting a smile slowly creep onto my lips, which caused the girls to burst into laughter, as they knew well enough what my answer was. I felt hands on my shoulders, and looked up to see Boba.

" Ah, Calli," he said, " I think its time to go home."

As we were riding back in the speeder, I looked up at the stars, shooting past above us. 

" It was wonderful to go in there with you," I admitted, grinning. " They all love you, you know – those girls. They're just dying to know everything."

" Please don't tell them everything," Boba warned.

" Oh, I wouldn't. I didn't even mention Wedge. I think they're more interested in the size of the crotch-guard on your armor than the effects of your daily life." He snorted with laughter.

When we arrived back at the cave, Ipa was washing dishes and Wedge was still sound asleep. 

" He woke up a few times," Ipa said as we crept over to have a look at him. " But I sang to him, got him to go back to sleep."

" Ipa," I said, placing a hand on her arm. " I really appreciate all you've done – you've paid back your debt to me ten-fold. And I love having you here, but I know you have a life at home, and I don't want to keep you from it any longer."

She turned and smiled. " Are you sure?" she asked. " If there is any other way I can help . . ."

" Really," I said, " Your help means a lot to me, but I feel selfish when I see you doing our dishes. You've done more than enough, and I'll be grateful to you forever."

" Alright," she said, " I'll contact my father's convoy tonight and have them pick me up in the morning. I do wish to get back to the temple and worship properly. But," she added, " I will miss you." I grinned and gave her a hug. " And," she whispered in my ear when I did this, " I'm sure you're ready to be alone with your love, who has finally returned." She gave me a knowing smirk when we separated.

" Well," I said, turning to look at Boba, who was kneeling by Wedge's crib and watching him sleep. " Who knows if he'll stay."

" Oh, I think he will," Ipa said, " Look at how enamoured he is with his new son – you know, my father was one of the most ruthless rebels on Ryloth when he preformed a coup and de-throned the previous dynasty's ruler. The people were terrified that they would have a bloody, fearsome tyrant for king . . . but when my brother and I were born, he re-discovered his faith, and was a changed man. Fatherhood can really put things in perspective, I think."

" I hope so," I said quietly, watching my son and his father together. " I really hope so. I hope he doesn't end up breaking both of our hearts." 

That night, Ipa slept for the last time on the cot the nurses had left for her near the kitchen, and Boba and I went to bed together as usual. In the middle of the night, after we'd strayed to our opposite ends on the bed, I felt his arm slide around my waist, and the heat of his body pressed to my back. I moved back and settled against him, enjoying the familiar but often fleeting feeling of sleeping in his arms. 

" Calli," he whispered near my ear, his warm breath on my skin sending a happy shudder through me. " You awake?"

" Uh huh," I muttered into my pillow.

" Are you, um, still healing?" he asked, " From . . . you know, the baby?" I shook with laughter.

" Boba," I said, grinning and keeping my eyes closed and he propped himself up on an elbow to get a look over my shoulder. " Are you trying to seduce little old me? What for?" I teased, " With your many conquests you'd think you'd be bored with me by now."

" C'mon, Calli," he said, kissing my ear. " You know that's just a bunch of Bantha crap. I'm not exactly in the company of many women on Corasaunt – unless they're bounty hunters themselves. And in that case they're usually more interested in beating me out for a bounty than getting me undressed."

" Sure, sure," I said, rolling over and letting him wrap me further in his arms. " Anyway, the nurses said I have to wait six weeks. So you're out of luck."

" Oh, okay," he said. " I was just, you know. Wondering." I giggled into his chest, and then realized that this could be an opportunity to try and find out how long I might be sharing a bed with him. 

" I'll, um, look for human birth control supplements next time we go to the market," I said, " That is – if, you know – I mean, I don't want to waste my money."

" You won't be," he whispered, stroking my hair.

" Boba," I said, burying my face against neck and sliding my arms around his shoulders, " I missed you so much," I admitted, growing serious. He squeezed me tighter.

" I know," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was telling me he'd missed me too, or just acknowledging the fact that it was obvious that I would miss him.

Because we couldn't make love, that night and on many that followed, we would lie in bed talking instead. At first we mostly talked about Wedge, marvelling over his existence, the fact that we were suddenly someone's parents, and the every detail of his daily life, which consisted of little more than nursing, sleeping and crying, but fascinated us all the same.

Eventually, during these late night talks, I ended up asking him about his life on Corasaunt – what a typical day was like (I learned that there wasn't a typical day when it came to bounty hunting), where he slept, what he did for fun.

" Sometimes I go to bars," he told me. " But its not . . . I mean, the men there just want to tell me how great my Dad was, and that's nice but it gets old. And the women are a little . . . silly."

" Silly?" I said, " What about Luna Organa?" He laughed.

" How do you know about Luna?" he asked, " From those girls at the bar?"

" You might say that."

" Well," he said, rolling onto his side, to face me. " My father kidnapped her when she was seven years old; some guy with a political plot had paid him to hold her until a movement in the Senate that he wanted rejected was dimissed by her father. I was eight at the time, and Dad wasn't exactly explaining his work to me yet, so I figured she was just visiting us or something. Actually, I remember thinking that she might have been some kid he picked up as a playmate for me." I grinned.

" Anyway, she was a princess, so she acted like a real brat," he said. " At first I couldn't stand her – she whined and threw temper tantrums all the time. But eventually we became friends, sort of. I mean, she was there, I was there, we were both kids, and no other options were around. Its not like we were soul mates or anything, we were just stuck together for a few months, and I guess when she was returned to her parents I was a little upset, just because it was a bit more boring without her. But I got over it. Karmac tells me all time that she asked about me once, like it's a big deal. I'm sure its not. What does she care? She was probably just curious about what happened to me." I nodded, though somehow I doubted that this woman would let even a passing whim go, based on what I'd heard.

Occasionally, Boba even had questions for me.

" How did you find out about your father's death?" he asked me one night, catching me off guard as I was putting Wedge to bed. I held a finger to my lips and flicked my head away from the crib, signaling that we should discuss it elsewhere.

For some reason, when he brought up this subject, my heart rate increased. Maybe only because of the nature of the thing – the murder of my father at the hands of a bounty hunter, and the fact that I'd gleaned the information from a Jedi. I told myself that it was only because of Boba's prejudice against the Jedi that I hesitated before telling him the truth.

I don't know what it was that stopped me from mentioning Mace – I still don't. All I know is that I heard a voice in my head, telling me with frightening clarity:

_Don't tell him what you know._

" I, um," I stuttered when we reached the bed. " He had been a pilot for the Republic himself, I found out. There was – an older officer, who'd known him. He told me about him, and about how he died."

If Boba sensed that I wasn't being entirely honest, he didn't show any sign of his doubt. We sat down together on the bed, and he was silent for sometime before he got the nerve to broach his second question.

" Did he tell you," he asked, hesitant, " Why – why a bounty hunter killed him?"

Here, I didn't feel that I had anything to hide.

" He had information about a politician, Count Dooku – I believe he's a principal supporter of the Separtists now," I explained, curtly, not letting any emotion rise in my voice. " Dooku hired the hunter to kill him."

" Dooku," Boba said, seemingly automatically. I turned to him. 

" You know him?" I asked, a cold feeling growing inside me. 

" No," he said, turning away from me. " But I've heard the name. Who hasn't?"

Something stirred uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach – he was holding something back, same as I was.

We gravitated to our separate sides of the bed, blew out all of the candles but the one we always left burning, used in the middle of the night for finding the way to Wedge's crib when he cried. Though I was tired from the typical day of tending to the baby's endless needs, I couldn't sleep. I could sense a new tension between Boba and I in our bed – something icy hung in the air. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on – though it wouldn't be too much longer until I learned of the serpentine irony we had been spiralling around since before either of us were born – since the day my father was assigned to be a pilot for a Jedi named Mace Windu, whose name I couldn't bring myself to speak, for reasons that were beyond my concious knowledge, to Boba.

As much as I wanted to resist it, I began to believe over the following months' time that Boba had ended his quest for revenge, and that he would be satisfied with a life with Wedge and I, his eyes focused clearly on the present and on his son's future rather than trained with deadly vigor on the past as they had been. I told myself not to, I warned myself against it, but I still came to the conclusion that had smashed me so completely in the past: Boba would stay.         

          Maybe because Wedge had become the center of our world, I let the lessons I had learned before slip away from me, and naively believed that Boba had changed. We spent our days watching our son grow at what seemed to us an alarmingly quick pace: we celebrated his first smiles, his new ability to wrap his tiny fingers around ours, his increased mobility, his first bout of adorable laughter, and every other baby obstacle that he overcame with age.

          Any worries that we may have separately and silently had about being unprepared for parenting after our abnormal childhoods were quelled with Wedge's happy demeanor and healthy development. Despite the ease and softness of our days then, outside our little cave the world was falling apart – the Republic's Clone army declared its alligence to Palpatine, who had defected from the Senate and announced his partnership with the Separtists. There was combat on Corasaunt, and all over the galaxy kingdoms were falling to Separtist control, which was growing more and more hostile. Boba and I would listen to snippets of fuzzy news reports on the radio in Slave 1 after dinner and would cast each other worried looks over Wedge's grinning and oblivious head.

          " We'll be okay," Boba would always say, busying himself with small repair work on the ship and pretending to be completely confident in this assertion. " We're fine."

          But during the nighttime, which, mercifully, Wedge had begun to sleep through peacefully, I could feel something approaching, coming to crash our party of three. I would roll over in the middle of the night and bury myself into the cradle of Boba's arms to try and glean some feeling of being protected, but I was too afraid that the ruin of our lives could still come from my protector himself.

          All quiet doubts aside, I was more in love with Boba then than I had ever been. Something about the birth of our son seemed to have settled the storm that had been raging inside him since his father's death – there was a happy justice to it, being given a chance to be there for his own son as his father couldn't be for him.

          I was feeling more complete than I ever had before as well – when I was with the two of them I felt I was a part of something untouchable, a tight circle that the war outside and the forces that had hurt us in the past could not touch. This was less than a feeling, I came to realize, than an entitiy that I had never had and had always longed for: a family.

          Even though I'd never been a part of one before, the ease with which Boba and I had both lost the families we should have belonged to should have warned me that the bonds we formed were not so strong: no matter how fiercely we loved and wished to protect each other, the circle was fragile; it could be, and was, easily broken.

          But the possibility of the dissolution of the tiny clan we'd formed was far from my mind: Wedge continued to grow, sitting up on his own, learning to drink from a cup and feed himself (though this was still more messy than it was worth), and, most heartbreakingly sweet, speaking his first word when he was seven months old.

          Boba had been working on _Slave 1_, but was distracted by Wedge, who could see his father and the ship from his crib and was babbling and pointing while he worked. He walked over and began giving Wedge a lesson in tool recognition.

          " See this?" I heard him say as I was putting away the groceries I'd just bought in the kitchen. He was holding up a wrench. " Fifteen millimeters. For tightening bolts." He held up a bolt, and Wedge responded thoughtfully with some baby gibberish.

          " Pass that over here when you're through with the lesson," I called, opening and closing the cabinet on our makeshift cupboard several times and listening to it creak. " This needs some work."

          " Alright," he said, hopping up and jogging over to hand me the wrench. He froze in his tracks, and I in the midst of my cabinet handling, when Wedge caught us both off guard:

          " Da-da!" he called out, reaching for Boba, obviously hurt that he'd walked off so abruptly. Boba and I looked at each other as if to say: did you hear that, too?

          " You talking to me?" Boba asked when he turned back to Wedge, grinning and gesturing to himself with the wrench.

          " Uh!" Wedge whined, opening and closing his hands as he reached up toward his father over the edge of the crib, and making a pitiable face. Boba laughed and went to him, grabbed him and spun him around in his arms, making the baby giggle with glee. I laughed out loud, too.

          " Wedge!" I squealed, rushing over to them. " Did you just say Da-da? Who's this?" I asked, pointing to Boba and trying to get him to say it again. " Who's this, Wedge? Is this Da-da?" This went on for almost an hour, resulting, to the joy of his parents, in Wedge getting out about ten more 'Da-da's.

          When we went to bed that night we were both completely giddy over our baby, who we were sure, after his speech at barely seven months old, was a genius. We put our heads together between our pillows and kissed each other congradulations between bursts of speech.

          " Seven months ago, if someone told me I'd have a kid by know I would have laughed my ass off," Boba said, grinning. " But now I understand why my father wanted a son, wanted me. Its got to be the best feeling in the galaxy, to watch this little person you created grow up." I nodded.

          " He'd be so proud of you, Boba," I said, feeling bold. " I know he would." Boba smiled slowly, and then grew serious.

          " I still miss him, all the time," he said, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling of the cave. " I – I never want Wedge to feel like I did when my father . . ." he trailed off.

          " He won't," I said, propping myself up on my elbow and leaning over Boba, letting my hair fall around his face. He smiled and ran his fingers through it gentley.

          " How do you know?" he asked quietly. I sighed.

          " I don't _know_," I said, " But – after having Wedge, I've learned that we don't have to repeat the past. We're not our parents, Boba. We still have a chance to learn from their mistakes." He looked up into my eyes and there was a jolt of electricity between us with his understanding of my meaning: that I wanted him to stop hunting, to step out of his father's armor forever and let his ghost fly free. I held my breath, waiting for his response.

          " What would have happened to me if we hadn't met at the orphanage?" he asked, his voice cautious, maybe embarrassed at our closeness after the easy distance that Wedge's distractions provided.

          " I'm sure you would have been just fine," I said, flopping onto my back beside him. 

          " I don't know about that," he muttered quietly. We were both silent for a while afterward, listening to the sounds of the planet's landscape outside.

          " You really sort of – took me off guard, when we became friends," he finally continued. " I'd never met anyone who just . . . wanted to be my friend, without anything in return. I – I remember the first time you hugged me, if that tells you anything." He laughed.

          " Really?" I said, my cheeks burning red. " When was it?" I asked, pretending I didn't remember myself. Of course, it had meant the same thing to me that it had to Boba: growing up in the orphanage I had been comforted as a child by the occasional friendly matron, but I hadn't exactly been lavished with physical affection.

          " It was when we were visiting your mother's grave, actually," he said. " You – you were kind of upset already, because we'd gotten in trouble for something. You ran off, and I followed you, and you were saying, if only your mother was alive, things would be so much better. Of course, I felt the same way every day about my father. While you knelt there crying I thought of his grave – of how much I missed him. I felt like – I felt like you were the only person in the world who understood what I was going through. I knelt down and touched your back, told you it was okay, and you just spun around and grabbed me up in your arms." 

He turned to me a grinned. " I didn't know what to make of it," he said with a dark little laugh. " My father hadn't exactly been the hugging type. I think it was the first time anyone ever – well."

I turned wordlessly and put my arms around him. He returned my embrace and buried his face against the crook of my neck. I kissed his bare shoulders and tried not to cry, remembering how much it had meant to me – how much it still meant to me – when Boba had held me for even a few short moments in his arms.

" We're going to make up for all of that," I whispered in his ear, " For all of that loneliness, all of that loss. We found each other, and now we have our son. If we were ever cheated, we'll find what we were missing in each other." He nodded with his face still pressed tightly against my neck, but I could feel a tremble of uncertainty move through him. _No, no_, I thought, squeezing him tighter and letting a tear roll down my cheek. _This has to be enough_. _Please_, I begged inwardly to whatever fates would hear me, _release us from our past_.

When we fell together that night, we felt remarkably like those two children we once were, and all the while the fates were turning their backs on the two orphans once again. When we curled up to fall asleep, I turned over onto my stomach and let Boba pour himself over me, his muscled chest hot on my back, his arm draped over my shoulder and his breath falling progressively softer on the back of my neck. I savored the feeling of being pressed benneath him: here is where I want to exist I thought, groggy with sleep and pleasure, in just this spot, under the weight of this man.

To some extent, I would always be crushed under the weight of Boba: under his legacy, under my longing for him, which wore on me constantly when we were apart. It had, that night and in the months that had proceeded it, again become very hard to believe, but we would still be apart for most of our lives.


	10. Chapter Ten

The next day, Wedge woke me up early, as usual, crying for his breakfast. I pulled myself from Boba's arms and moved groggily toward the crib. Boba rolled over and went back to sleep. 

          After feeding the baby, I took him to the back of the cave - the small pool of water that served as our bathtub, for his bath. There was a separate basin where I bathed Wedge, and when he was done, I went back to the kitchen and plopped him into a highchair that Boba had made for him while I started making breakfast. Wedge was in a particularly loud mood that morning, and his gurgling and babbling woke Boba up before too long. He got up, got dressed and walked into the kitchen, stretching and yawning, and kissing both Wedge and I on our cheeks in turn.

          " I think I'll take the ship out today," he said, " Just give her a test-run, see if that bug with the sensor array has been fixed. You and Wedge want to come?" he asked, as Wedge began reaching for him and whining – his new trick for attention. Boba plucked him from the highchair and bounced him in his lap.

          " I don't know," I said, turning our dustcrapes. " Maybe you should make some kind of baby-restraining seat before we try that." He grinned.

          " I'm way ahead of you," he said. I laughed.

          " You're kidding," I said, " Is that what you've been tinkering on in there?" he nodded. " A baby seat in _Slave 1_." I shook my head in disbelief and giggled.

          " Actually," he said. " Its only a modified version of the one that already existed. What do you think I rode in when I was a kid? My dad made me one for travelling – it was still in storage, just needed some modifications." Something in me sank when I thought of Wedge being apprentinced to Boba as he had once been to his own father. Boba slid him back into his highchair, and Wedge whined in protest.

          " Just flying, though, right?" I asked, nervous. " No ion cannon firing lessons or anything . . ." Boba laughed.

          We were interupted by the sound of someone coming up the rocky entrance to the cave. Boba jumped back up and reached for his blaster, which he still kept attached to his belt. Wedge cooed softly in inquiry at the sudden change in his parents' demeanor, and I moved protectively to his side, though I could smell our breakfast beginning to burn. 

          " Who's there?" Boba called, and we were answered when a tall, dark man appeared at the entrance of the cave. I thought I heard Boba's breath catch as I was letting mine out in relief, but before I could, I saw him raise his blaster and go for the trigger.

          " Boba!" I shrieked, running over and pulling down his arm. " Stop! He's a friend!" Boba turned and looked at me, his blaster still clutched tightly in his hands, and the look on his face made me take a step back.

          " Your friend?" he growled.

          " Yes," I said, frowning. " Remember that life I had while you were away? This is Mace Windu – he was a good friend to me on Corasaunt."

          Mace approached cautiously, setting down a bundle of what looked like gifts on the floor of the cave.

          " I've come at a bad time," he said, looking from me to Boba, his voice somber.

          " No, no," I said, waving my hand. " You just took us by surprise, that's all. Boba – put that thing down." Boba's arms slowly dropped, but his moves were still as cautious as a nexu who was focused on his prey.

          " Are you sure?" Mace said, still standing a good twenty feet from the kitchen table. " That I'm not intruding?"

          " No, I'm happy to see you," I said with a smile. " I'm glad you were able to find the cave – I suppose you sensed it or something? You're welcome to stay for breakfast, though I'm afraid I may have burned it . . ." I rushed back to the stove. Boba was still standing, like a stone, at the foot of the table. Mace approached slowly.

          " I'm happy to see that your child has been born," he said, first walking to Wedge. " And that he is as healthy as is possible. And handsome, too." I turned to give him a smile in thanks and saw Boba flinch when Mace dropped to his knees to say hello to Wedge. The baby giggled happily, reaching out to touch the Jedi's nose. Mace laughed, and then stood, facing Boba. My heart rate increased when I saw their eyes meet – what was going on? Was it only because of his Jedi robe that Boba was acting this way?

           " I don't believe we've met," Mace said to Boba, though there was something in his dark eyes that made me think maybe they had, and that neither of them wanted me to know about it.

          " Right," Boba said shortly. " Its Boba." 

          " Mace Windu," Mace returned, walking forward and extending a hand. After an awkward pause, his eyes locked on Mace's all the while, Boba finally offered his own hand, and they shook, menacingly. Maybe I'm imagining it, I thought, hopeful, turning back to the dustcrepes. But something dark had descended over Boba as soon as Mace had stepped into the cave. Outside I heard the wind picking up, and turned to see the sky clogged more thickly with dust.

          " Looks like we might have a storm," I mused, but neither Mace nor Boba turned to look outside. " Why don't you two have a seat?" I suggested, panicky.

          " No thanks," Boba said, jerking away, toward the back of the cave.

          " Where are you going?" I called, but he didn't answer. I listened to his footsteps until I couldn't hear them anymore. " I'm sorry," I said, turning to Mace, who was taking a seat at the table. " He's usually – I mean – I don't know what's wrong with him all of a sudden."

          " Its alright, Callia," Mace said, still distracted but looking over at Wedge. " I came to visit you and the baby, anyway."

          " Well how are you?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer. I brought a plate of dustcrepes to the table, and he took one, studying it a bit before eating it.

          " I've seen better days," he admitted. " But I'm thankful for your safety, and for this child's, and for the safety of several other friends in other small corners of the world." He looked up at me. " I haven't given up hope." I reached over and placed my hand on his.

          " I'm afraid to ask what's become of Corasaunt, and those who are still fighting for the Republic," I said. He shook his head.

          " We have suffered terrible losses," he said. " And yet I fear that this conflict has only just begun." I sighed, and we both turned to look at Wedge, who had grown quiet.

          " You have a beautiful son," he said. " That man – Boba – is his father?" I nodded.

          " You'll have a bad impression of him," I said, " But he's actually been wonderful with Wedge."

          " I'm glad," Mace said. He stopped there, and I got the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me.

          Wedge slapped the tray on his highchair with his hand, and I jumped. In that moment something dark wiggled its way into my mind, and my throat went dry. 

          Boba hated the Jedi, because a Jedi had killed his father. 

          Mace was a Jedi – it stood to reason that this was why he had acted rudely when he arrived.

          Unless.

          Unless there was something more than an angry prejudice there. I looked up at Mace. He seemed to understand where my train of thought was headed, confirming my fears.

          " Callia," he said. " I've – brought you some things."

          " Mace," I said, my voice cracking. " What –"

          " Shhh," he said, shaking his head. " Let me show you something." He stood and retrieved the bundle he'd placed on the floor of the cave upon entering. Bringing it over to the table, he did not meet my eyes as tears began to slide down my face.

          " It can't be . . ." I muttered, shell-shocked and unwilling to believe what I had finally realized. " No, its too – its impossible."

          " Callia," Mace said, touching my wrist and bringing my attention back to the gifts he had brought. " I brought you these books, thinking you might be bored on a planet that offers little in the way of the printed human language." I shook my head, and let the tears pour down my face.

          " Oh, its all over," I cried, " Mace, why did you come here?" 

          " And this," he said, continuing to ignore the fact that I now understood who he was. " This is a sort of electronic medical encyclopedia – see, you enter the symptoms here –"

          " Mace!" I demanded in a shout, making Wedge start to whimper at the other end of the table. The Jedi finally looked up at me, his eyes full of sorrow.

          " Callia," he said, in his voice a heavy pain. " You must believe that I did not anticipate this."

          " I believe you," I said in a growl, rising from my chair to pick up Wedge, " Because coming here will certainly mean your death. I recommend you go." I said, holding Wedge protectively against me. " Before he returns. When he does, he'll kill you."

          " Please," Mace said, " Listen to both sides of the story before you make a judgement."

          " I'm not making a judgement," I said, though I was, and though my eyes had grown cold and slanted when I viewed the man I had once reguarded as a friend. " I'm simply stating a fact. He _will_ kill you. He's been waiting his whole life for the chance. If you value your life, you'll leave."

          Mace shut his eyes and sighed, and suddenly I could not bring myself to even feel sorry for him, for wandering into the cave of a deadly predator. He had killed Boba's father. He had ruined Boba's life, and so he had ruined mine as well. I knew that this meeting would mark the end of anything that Boba and I had together. I had befriended the man who had destroyed his world.

          " My father should have let you die," I said, a sob escaping with the harshest words I had ever spoken. 

          " Calli," Mace said, his paitence with my hysteria only enraging me further. " When I looked into the eyes of your baby's father, I could feel the hurt, the pain that a long-ago stroke my light-saber cost him. And I am sorry for what that move in battle meant for him. But I do not regret defending my life from an approaching enemy. I cannot apoligize for these horrible circumstances."

          " He was there, you know," I said, crying and hugging a confused and increasingly upset Wedge to me, " He was in the arena that day. He saw you do it. He saw his father murdered."

          " I think murder is too strong a word," Mace said. " He seems to have explained to you what happened that day – but did he tell you that his father was trying to kill me when he met his end?"

          " He – he said his father was working for a diplomat," I said, my voice still shaking as my defense of Jango Fett faltered.

          " Diplomat," Mace said darkly, " May not be a strong _enough_ word." He closed his eyes. " I don't want to have to tell you this, Callia. I cared very much for your parents, and I have come to care for you, too. But I feel you need to know the truth."

          There was nothing I could say. I waited for him to speak, while the dust storm outside grew more violent, the sound of the sand pelting the rocks outside louder. Mace looked up.

          " The 'diplomat' Jango Fett was working for was Tyrannus," he said, " Better known as Count Dooku."

          " No," was all that could scarcely escape my lips. My knees grew weak, and I was afraid I might topple over from the weight of what had been revealed. Mace brought a chair for me to fall into. I squeezed Wedge to me and prayed that it could somehow be untrue. Boba's father had worked for the man who killed my parents – for I knew he could have even been the hunter that Dooku had hired ten years before, the hunter who put a blaster against my father's head and robbed me just as Mace had Boba.

          " This is all too . . . ," I muttered, crying. " This is just –"

          " Callia," Mace said, kneeling to face me. " I never meant for any of this to happen. But this conflict, this war that the Separatists have waged, has touched all of us, cheated all of us. I lost many of my friends the day that Boba lost his father. Most of my fighting fleet, but, more importantly, good men and women, who were fighting for what they believed in. Can a bounty hunter say that he fights for something he believes in?" he asked.

          " Please," I sobbed. " Please, don't." He stood.

          " Fair enough," he said, " I will leave you to draw your own conclusions about your baby's father. But anger is a powerful, terrible thing, Callia. I don't want you to be hurt."

          " He won't hurt me," I croaked out, stroking Wedge's hair as he began to whimper. " I know he won't."

          " Yes, I can sense that much – that he won't physically harm you," Mace said. " If I wasn't completely sure of this, then I wouldn't leave as I soon shall. But all the same," he said, reaching down and lifting my chin so that I faced him. " His anger, his need to take revenge for his father, will hurt all three of you in a deeper sense, I'm afraid."

          " Mace, just go," I cried. " Just go, please, quickly. I – I don't know what to say. But he will kill you the next time you meet. So please. I don't want my son following in his father's footsteps and witnessing a murder before he reaches adolesance."

          " Callia," Mace said, and I met his eyes, which were still calm, though sorrowful. " If you need anything, I am staying in an traveller's Inn near the Geonosian city of Rohiem. This visit was not purely personal – I have something to investigate on this planet that once posed a threat to the Republic." He stopped. " To the late Republic," he said.

          " But what if he comes looking for you!" I said, " You have to get off of Geonosis." Mace shook his head.

          " Don't worry, my young friend," he said, smiling at me before turning to go. " We will meet again," he promised, and stepped out of the cave into the sandstorm. His figure instantly disappeared behind the cloud of sand and dust that the raging wind was carrying.

          When he was gone, I let myself burst into tears. I cradled Wedge, who was also crying, against me and tried to make sense of all that had just occurred, but there was no sense in it at all. Boba had lied to me about Dooku, just as I had lied to him about Mace. We had betrayed each other for our fathers' murderers.

          " So," I heard Boba say, and gasped. I looked up to see him standing near the left entrance to the cave – smaller, and accessible to his garage. He was wearing his father's armor, and the helmut was at his feet. 

" After all this time," he said, the coolness of his voice like a handful of icy needles in my heart. " After all of my searching, its you who led me to him after all." He laughed: or, it was a thing like a laugh, but completely devoid of mirth. " Funny," he said. 

          " Don't you dare," I said, my face twisting into an expression of anger, though my heart was breaking so horribly I simply wanted to cry. " Don't you reprimand me for anything. I don't know how long you were standing there, but perhaps you heard him tell me that Dooku has quite a history with your family."

          He offered only a wicked smirk. " Oh," he said, " You're mad at me. How – ironic? Is this irony? Its practically serendipity, don't you think? You lying to me about the man who killed my father, about the thing I've been questing for for the past ten years, and me lying to you about the man who had your own father killed." He walked toward me, his rage evident in his purposeful steps. 

          " Only," he said, standing close to me, grabbing my shoulders roughly and glaring at me. " I lied to protect you. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you that my father had once worked for Dooku –"

          " Oh, liar!" I screamed, " You didn't want to admit that your father wasn't the perfect man you thought he was! He was a killer, and he didn't care who he worked for or who he hurt. That's what bounty hunters are, Boba. Ruthless, heartless killers!"

          He walked across the room, and kicked a chair at the table so hard that it flew against the wall of the cave and shattered into splinters. Wedge was crying, screaming at the top of his lungs in my arms.

          " What do you care?" I cried, furious. " You're just like him."

          " Good!" Boba screamed. " Better to be like my father, than this idiot I've let myself become. This fool that you've made of me – my father never would have put himself in a situation like this, letting someone he thought he could trust betray him in such in an amazing way," he scoffed, " And bravo, Calli," he said, " You're good. You're really good. I didn't see that coming. I didn't see that coming at all."

          " See what coming?" I cried, wishing that Wedge would stop crying, as his wails were only making me feel more disjointed, more completely blown apart. " This wasn't some plan I had, this wasn't some game I was playing. Mace knew my father - he found me on Corasaunt and told me about my parents – about what Dooku and some bounty hunter had done to them. I had no idea – I had no idea – if it had been any other Jedi I would have turned from him, but he knew my parents –"

          " Oh, why bother, Calli?" he snapped, going back for his helmet. " This is over." I shook my head, and let myself begin to cry again.

          " Why?" I shouted, " Why are you doing this?" He cast one last furious look at me before sliding on his helmut, and said:

          " Why _aren't_ you?" 

          " What?!"

          " Why aren't you out there, going after Dooku, for all that he's done to you?" he demanded. " Why is it so damn hard for you to understand, the fact that I want to kill the man who killed my father? You, of all people, should know exactly why I'm doing this."  He slid his helmut over his face, and disappeared again into his father's spector.

          " Oh, that's just lovely, Boba," I spat, trying in vain to comfort Wedge as I spoke, " You know, I _was_ going after Dooku. I was in an Army that was fighting against his forces. But that all ended when I got pregnant with Wedge."

          " That's not my problem," he said, in the harsh voice that came from behind the mask. " You should have been more careful." 

          Even after all that had already been said, I was ruined by those words. They scalded the very pit of my soul – in an instant he had dismissed not only me, but our son as well. All for his anger, which he had been clinging to all along, under the surface, like a lifeline. All for his obsession.

          " Where are you going?" I asked, deadened, as he headed for his ship. A stupid question. 

          " To finish something that began a long time ago," he barked, opening the cockpit.

          " You're the one who'll be finished," I shouted over the noise of the storm still raging outside. " At first I was afraid, no, sure, that you would kill him. But now I know who'll be walking away alive. He's stronger than you, Boba. You're a weak man, ruled by anger."

          He stopped as he was climbing into the cockpit, froze for a moment as if he was searching for something to say. In hindsight, I think my words had cut through his armor and stabbed at his heart, however closely guarded and cold he had kept it all along.

          Without turning back again, he pulled himself entirely into the cockpit, and closed the door without looking at Wedge and I, huddled together in the face of the exhast from _Slave 1_'s engines as they kicked in, and the ferocious winds outside that blasted the edges of the cave.          

          " Wait, the storm," I whispered into the dust-clogged air, stroking Wedge's head, trying to calm him. It tore at me more than anything else that I was still worried about Boba's safety. If the storm didn't put his ship down, Mace would be forced to kill another Fett in self defense.

          Ignoring all signs of danger as always, Boba lifted off, and flew out of the cave, sending a new burst of air over Wedge and I. As the warmth of it washed over us, I was sure, positive, that we would never see him again.

          I fell to the floor and knelt there, holding Wedge and slowly easing his cries. After some time, the storm outside waned, and I could see through the dust to the horizon. 

          It was still morning, I realized, reaching up to touch my cheeks, raw from being wiped clean of tears so many times, that day and always. 

          Still morning, I thought, watching the light outside grow brighter. My world had ended before the sun had even come up. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

We Are All Made of Stars

Part II

Your sorry eyes 

_They cut through bone_

_They make it hard_

_To leave you alone_

_To leave you here_

_Wearing your wounds_

_Waving your guns_

_At somebody new_

_Baby, you're lost_

_Baby, you're lost_

_Baby, you're a lost cause._

-- Beck

I had begun to hate my trips to the market. Wedge was always asking me to buy him something, and with no income, only the money Boba had once left for me and any remains of my salary from the now-dufunct Republic, I couldn't exactly afford to spoil him. This would enevitably put him in a bad mood, and he would begin dragging his feet, insisting that he was tired, and asking to be carried.

          It was on one of these tiring market days, when my six-year old son had found an old pilot's helmet in a pile of junk-shop rubble, and had placed it on his head and begun the usual begging routine, that a spector from my past showed up in the present.

          " Calli?" a voice, somewhat familiar but long unheard, called to me as I was asking Wedge (a good deal more harshly than usual, though the little boy couldn't have understood why his desire to wear a helmet perturbed me more than his usual marketplace requests) to put the helmet back. I straightened, and turned to find a dark-haired woman in stylish clothes, who was holding a small bundle and looking at me with bemused interest. It took me a moment before I realized who she was: she looked strange away from the place where I had once been acustomed to seeing her: Eulee's bar. It was Tinka.

          " Hello," I said, shortly, taking Wedge's hand.

          " Its been a long time," she said, offering a smile that I didn't return. Uncomfortable with my stanch reply, she shifted her gaze to Wedge. " Hello there," she said, squatting to face him. He smiled before shyly clutching my leg.

          " Hello," he returned in the small voice that children use with strangers.

          " He's cute," Tinka said, standing. " He looks like his dad." My eyes dropped to my feet. Except for the ghostly white skin and the dark blue eyes, Wedge was Boba's spitting image, especially as he had been in childhood: button nose and all.

          " So what's Boba Fett up to these days, anyway?" she asked. " Still working, I guess – I heard something about him showing up on Yavin 4 a few months –"

          " Look, I wouldn't know," I snapped. " I haven't seen him in more than five years." All the while Wedge was looking up at me, and I wondered if he would question me about this later, or if he was even paying attention to the adult conversation.

          Tinka surprised me by not turning her back and walking off as soon as she learned that I no longer had any connection to Boba, aside from the son he had left me with. Instead she fished around in the bag she was carrying, retrived a pair of death sticks, and offered one to me.

          " No thanks," I said, " We've really got to be going."

          " Hey, what's your hurrary?" she asked, placing the death stick between her lips. She snapped her fingers in front of her lips and the death stick sparked to life. " Hang around and have a drink with an old friend."

          " I – I don't know that we were ever friends," I said, stuttering in the face of what she had just done with batting an eyelash. " How did you light that?" I asked. She took the death stick from her mouth, exhaled a neat line of smoke, and smiled.

          " This old trick?" she asked, snapping her fingers and igniting a few sparks. Wedge stifled an entertained giggle against my leg. Tinka looked down at him and grinned. " My mother was a Yuilere – a fringe culture, humans who had once settled on Malastare." She looked back at me. "They were conjurers – simple stuff. Maybe they should've been Jedi but for whatever reason they weren't. I remember a few things," she shrugged, and took another puff. " So, a drink?"

          I agreed, mostly out of loneliness. We walked to a nearby restaurant that catered to travelers, and sat down at a table near the bar. I hoped that Tinka wouldn't talk about Boba – that she would understand that it was a sore subject, or would be soon, when Wedge began school and learned that most children had two parents. 

          I had nothing to worry about – Tinka mostly talked about herself, and when she did mention Boba it was in vague allusions. Wedge was preoccupied anyway, watching a pod-race broadcast that was on the holovid set behind the bar.

          " It's a tough break," she said, after her second glass of Antakarian Fire Dancer. " That he took off on you." She shrugged. " That the way it is, with them. Right? I haven't seen Dengar in – gods, who knows?" She laughed, but there was sadness there. " The time gets away from you on Geonosis. Well, you know that." She looked up at me. 

          " Yes, I do," I answered, reaching over to smooth Wedge's hair, sorry that I'd been angry with him earlier, when it wasn't his fault that we were stuck there with no money for toys. " The nature of it – its flexible here, time. Sometimes I feel like he's grown up overnight," I told Tinka, " Other days I feel its been centuries since he was born."

          Tinka scoffed. " Yeah," she said, " I can barely remember what this place was like before the Empire took over. But some days I wake up and except things to be like they were." She looked up at me. " You know what I mean?" 

I nodded. Because only a few people in the entire universe knew or remembered that I existed, the Empire had not interferred greatly with my life. But I still understood what she meant – I could scarely remember what it had been like to live with Boba, or even to be in love with him. But sometimes I still woke up and looked for him beside me in bed. Even though I felt only anger and resentment for him since he had deserted us, in my few moments of half-conciousness before fully waking, I would be crushed all over again to find his side of the bed empty.

Sometimes I felt sorry for him. The day that Mace paid his second visit to the cave, I felt incredibly sorry for Boba, even though he had only brought the disappointment of defeat onto himself.

" He showed up at the Inn that night, as I knew he would," Mace told me when I asked him what had happened after he left the cave. " I was waiting for him, sitting on the floor, meditating. He stepped out of the shadows, and the room quaked with his rage, but his aura was bleeding an unbelievable sadness as well."

Here, I had placed my head in my hands. I felt just as I had when Mace told me about my parents, and about their demise. Another person falling through my life, past my reach, only available in the Jedi Master's kind but detached rememberances.

" He asked me if I knew who he was, and I answered that I did," Mace continued. " He asked me if I had anything to say to him before he killed me. I said that I was sorry for what had happened to him, but I told him that if he was waiting for an apology for what happened that day, it would not and could not come from me."

I knew what Mace was implying – it was what I had quietly believed all along, and only stronger since I'd met the man who had brought Jango Fett's life to an end. The man who needed to apologize for what had happened to Boba was Jango himself. 

Of course, all he would be apologizing for was his too-human desire to have someone to share his life with, someone to continue his legacy. For creating something and therefore allowing the possibilty that it might be destroyed. I was guilty of the same unforgiveable crime when I chose to bring Wedge into the world - into, specifically, my imperfect world: a cold cave in the midst of a galaxy that was crumbling into the hands of tyrants.

But there was no safety, there was no guarantee for any parent, that their child would be free from pain, from loss, from sadness. There was no such assurance in our world or in any other.

" What happened next?" I asked Mace then, my voice raw.

" We fought," he said. " And, as you can see, he did not kill me." He reached down to the sleeve of his robe and pulled it back, to reveal a ghastly scar on his arm. " This is one of several close calls that grazed past," he said. " If I did not have my force abilities, I would have been killed." 

I felt horrible for Mace, but, that day, I did not yet know if Boba had survived him. I was shaking horribly, unable to look him in the eye.

" And . . ." was all I could croak out.

" I did not want to kill him," Mace said, and I choked out a sob, sure that he was dead. 

" So," he continued, " I only injured him badly enough to force him to retreat. It was a painful wound, so he would have felt that he was going away to die. But there is a difference between a painful injury and a fatal one, and I have been long-trained to know that difference. It is one of the tactics we use when we need information from an adversary. But," he added, " I let him leave."

I was crying, though pathetically trying to hide it. " Why," I asked, from behind a hand I covered my face with. " Why, for me? For me you let him go? Mace, this isn't over for him. He'll find you again –"

" Callia," he said, smiling despite everything and placing a hand over mine. " My time in this world is coming to a close. I can feel it, especially now, after so many of my friends have died. I'm sure you've heard about the massacre of the Jedi on Corasaunt last year."

" I heard – something," I said, suddenly embarrassed at my small, personal pain, when the world was falling to pieces around me.

" The last bastion of Corasaunt," Mace explained, " The Jedi Headquarters, fell then to the Sith – or to the Empire, as they are now calling themselves. I was one of only a handful of us who narrowly escaped death that day," he said, " And my battle scars increased before the ones that Boba gave me had even healed." He smiled again, corageously. 

" I am beginning to feel my age, I'm afraid," he said. " And my powers are dimming with my hope for peace." He was quiet for a moment, his eyes focused downward, on his hands, which were folded neatly on the tabletop. 

" No Jedi believes, when he begins his career, that he might see this kind of destruction, face this kind of combat." He looked up at me. " It is not what we hope for," he added, his voice tight. I left my chair and went to him, put my arms around him. As I embraced my friend, I couldn't rid my mind of the dirty fact that I was hugging the man I had cursed and loathed since I was a teenage orphan hating in defense of the boy she loved – the man who killed Boba's father.

When we parted, Mace stood, and walked to where Wedge, then four years old, was sitting and playing with a toy ship I had made for him for his last birthday. My son was humming to himself, unaware that a Jedi master had his attention focused on him.

" Keep him safe," he said, and I nodded. 

As he went to leave, I asked him if I would ever see him again.

" I don't know," he said, thoughtful. " I'm in hiding, of course, trying to stay clear of the Empire's agents. They're still searching for us – the last of the Jedi. I suppose they think we pose a threat." He laughed to himself. " Maybe, someday. But not this old man."

" Don't talk like that," I begged. " You don't know – how much it hurts me to hear that you've given up hope."

" Oh no," he said, shaking his head. " I have not given up hope – no, not at all." He looked back to Wedge. " Sometimes hope," he said, " Just has to lie a long time in wait."

          " Calli," Tinka said, calling me back to the present. She was packing her death sticks away, and finishing her third drink. " I've got to go," she said. " Got to drop some stuff off for a friend . . ." she trailed off. 

          I nodded, getting her meaning. I wasn't much of a conversationalist anymore – I mainly only talked to my son, who didn't demand much in the way of sintilating dialogue.

          " Sorry," I said, " I guess – I've got a lot on my mind." I laughed to myself – nothing had happened in my life in years, but I was still preoccupied at every moment with the past. I was as unable to let go of it as Boba was.

          " Its alright," Tinka said, " It was good to see you alive. And your son, healthy," she said, nodding to Wedge. " You know," she added, under her breath, " Karmac was killed."

          " Oh," I said, remembering the bulky, jovial man who had haphazardly told Boba about my pregnancy – who had, actually, been an important link on the chain of events that led to our explosive end. " I'm sorry," I said.

          Tinka was looking at me, waiting, as if she wasn't sure she should tell me what she said next.

          " The rumor was that Boba killed him," she whispered, " And just to win a bounty. Everyone was shocked. We thought – well. I guess we thought he was different from his father."

          I wanted to laugh, but I knew if I did, it would be such a cold, angry laugh that I would frighten my son. 

          " Believe me," I said instead. " He is exactly the same." Even as I said it, I didn't want to believe it – something deep in the pit of me resisted this assertion. What has he ever done to prove otherwise? a larger, cynical place inside demanded.

           I looked down at Wedge as I took his hand and led him out of the restaurant. I knew what made me think he was different: it was not that he had loved his son – Jango had been the same way with Boba, I was certain. 

          It was the part of me that longed to believe that he had once loved me that wouldn't let me pass him off as the reincarnation of Jango that he had very nearly become.

          But as we headed home, I inwardly reminded this dwindling part of myself that, even if he had, he no longer did. He had grown up, and into the armored boots of his father. Whatever he felt for me, I decided, was only a stage in his development.

          The soft, larve stage of a man who would, and, from Tinka and Mace's reports, had, hardened into a steel-plated killer.

The next day was a typical one for Wedge and I – I remember nothing spectacular about it. No feelings I had that something would change that day, that a maelstrom would suddenly blow into our quiet, stolid live in the cave. 

          Wedge had just finished with his lunch, and because he had eaten all of his veghash, I let him play with the holovid that Mace had brought us the second time he visited. It was an old holovid, and Wedge liked to tinker with it, and rejoiced when he found even an old Malastarian news broadcast to watch. Though he had happily read the children's books that Mace had brought for him, there was something special about the holovid for him – it was a connection to the outside world, which our place in the cave was otherwise almost entirely devoid of. Already, at six, he was curious, and I didn't blame him. I fully planned to send him to school on another planet, with other human boys and girls – or at least alien children who could speak our language – when I came up with a way to somehow get the money.

          " Mommy," he said suddenly as I was cleaning the dishes.

          " Hang on, sweetie, let me finish these," I said.

          " Mom," he said again, more insistant.

          " What, Wedge?" I asked, getting annoyed.

          " There's . . . a man," he said, and I frowned, dropped my dish into the sink, and spun around. I started to ask Wedge what he meant, when I saw him – a man crawling into the cave on all fours. I gasped, and went for the trunk I kept near my bed, where I stored Boba's old blaster. Before I could get the lock open, I heard my name and froze.

          " Calli," the man said in a hoarse rasp. My fingers trembled on the lock. I didn't want to look up – I didn't want it to happen again.

          " Mommy, he's bleeding!" Wedge, cried, jumping and going to him. " Bad!" 

          It was Boba. And he was bleeding – his armor was still on, but there were snags in the weak places, and blood leaked from them. He leaned forward and coughed, and more blood sputtered out onto the floor.

          " What the hell do you think you're doing here?" These were the first words out of my mouth. Wedge looked up at me with surprise.

          " Mom!" he cried. " He's hurt! Help him!"

          " My ship," Boba moaned, falling onto his side and spitting a mouth full of blood out of the corner of his mouth. " I had to – put – it down – out there." 

          " You've got some nerve," I said, laughing darkly.

          " Mom!" Wedge screamed, starting to panic.

          " Go," Boba growled, wincing in pain and curling into a ball with his hands on his stomach. " Go – get – it – before – someone – steals . . ." With this, he passed out.

          " Mommy!" Wedge cried.

          " Its okay, baby," I said, going to him and putting my arms around him. " He'll be fine."

          " How do you know?" Wedge asked, clearly terrified. I wanted to kick Boba's unconcious head in for coming and putting Wedge through this, but I resisted.

          " Listen," I said, " You know where I keep the laundry?" He nodded. " Go there, and get me some clean towels, and then bring them back to the bath. Okay?" he nodded, and ran off.

          I turned to Boba. He was a mess, and, truthfully, I didn't know if he would be okay. With Wedge gone, my own panic started to set in – why had he come to me? What was I supposed to do? 

          I picked him up under his shoulders, and dragged him back to the bath. Wash the wound, I remembered from the Army's small instruction on emergency medicine – if you can, wash the wound before wrapping it. But first, I realized, I would have to strip him of his armor. Having no idea how to do this, I tried to prop him up as I went for the many ties and clasps that held his battle gear on. Wedge ran in with the towels as I was fumbling with this. He stood there, dumbfounded, watching and still holding them in a neat stack in his hands.

          " Unnnh!" Boba moaned suddenly when I finally got his breast plate unattached. Blood poured out anew and drenched me, and he passed out again, his head lolling back and the full weight of his body falling back onto me. Wedge shrieked.

          " Honey," I said, desparate to get him out of the room. " Put those towels down."

 I spoke in my calmest voice, pretending I had everything under control. 

" Good boy! Thank you very much. Now I need another favor. I need, um – six glasses of Bantha milk. Can you get that for me?" He nodded, silent, his face drained of color. I prayed that he wouldn't pass out himself as he trotted off to get the all-important milk – a task that I hoped would keep his small, six-year-old hands busy long enough for me to get Boba to stop bleeding everywhere and scaring the hell out of him.

After I finally got Boba out of his armor, I pulled off his dirty shirt and pants as well, and carefully loaded his dead weight into the pool we used as our tub. His head lolled forward, and I began to get worried – his blood quickly turned the water in the small pool pink and cloudy.

" Boba," I said, climbing in beside him, kneeling in front of him in the water, and lifting up his chin. His eyes were shut – I pulled back one of his eyelids and he groaned. I let out a sigh of relief – though it didn't make any sense, my wanting him to be alive – since I felt like killing him for having the nerve to show up and wordlessly ask for my help after everything that had happened.

I left him in the bath and went for the first aid materials I kept in the kitchen. Wedge had six glasses set out on the floor, and was very carefully pouring his second cup of Bantha milk.

" Good boy," I said, grabbing the kit and heading back to the bath. When I got back, I was setting to pull Boba out of the water when my frenzied mind remembered that I hadn't yet washed his wounds – only gotten them wet. Not knowing what else to use, I grabbed my stick of soap and went for the first abrasion I could find – a large gash between his neck and shoulder. When I brought the disinfectant to his skin, he snapped suddenly back to life, and screamed.

" Arggh – Calli!" he shouted, tipping himself away from the soap. " Don't - bother," he growled through gritted teeth. I was about to argue with him – I was sure I remembered something about cleaning a wound being important, to prevent infection. But he looked up at me, desparate, and said, mustering all his strength to get out a clear statement: 

" Please, just wrap them. I'm bleeding to death." 

At these words I let my anger slide away and realized how serious the situation was – Wedge might see his father die as Boba once had.

" A- alright," I stuttered, my hands trembling as I pulled him from the pool. He groaned as I laid him on the floor of the cave, and I pulled open the box of medical supplies. My hands fumbled ineptly at the bandages, and I began to become terrified – I had been through a lot in my life, survived a lot, sometimes barely – but I didn't know that I could handle watching Boba's life slowly leak out of him, watching him die at my feet. 

I wrapped his shoulder, a gash on his thigh, and another just under his left arm. Finally I moved to his right side, which he was holding both of his hands over. 

" Move your hands," I said, but he didn't hear me. He was shaking all over, his skin had grown pallid and dull, and his hair was soaked with sweat. He's dying, I thought, petrified with fear as I pulled his hands away. I recoiled when I did – blood came gushing out from the wound, which was obviously the worst of all of them. The others had been dulled by his armor, but there was an exposed, tiny crevease between the plates of armor on the side of his chest, and whatever weapon he'd been attacked with had struck him, in one brilliant and deadly stroke, just there. 

 I wrapped the wound, but the blood just kept soaking through the bandages. I cursed, realizing that if I kept it up I'd run out of gauze. I lept up and grabbed one of the towels Wedge had brought, and when I returned, removed the drenched, bloody bandages and pressed the full weight of one of the folded towels against his side. When the blood didn't automatically seep through, I was was heartened, and began wrapping again, tightly, to hold the towel in place. When I was finished, a small, red spot appeared over the wound, but stopped there. It was clotting, I realized, sitting back, relieved.

But my relief only lasted for a moment. Boba had gone completely still, and his breathing was harsh and unnatural. Not knowing what to do, and knowing I didn't have time to access the medical encyclopedia, I called for Wedge, meanwhile trying to remember any other bits of my brief medical training at the Academy. Something rushed through my mind: _lift up his head_? I elevated Boba's head, and placed it on my knee. Wedge ran into the room.

" Mommy?" he said, his little voice trembling. " I got the milk – but I can't carry it all –"

" Never mind about the milk," I said, no longer able to hide the fear and panic in my own voice. " I need you to get me blankets, Wedge – as many as you can. Those by the laundry, all of them off my bed – every blanket in the cave. Hurray!" He ran off, and I prayed he would be quick. I leaned over Boba and put my arms around him, trying to keep him warm – was he going into shock? I remembered going over shock in our crash course in medical treatment at the Academy – I saw a list of things to do in my mind: keep the person warm. I wrapped him in my arms as best I could while I waited for Wedge to arrive with the blankets.

I remembered another instruction, one that I had thought of at the time as silly and out of place in a military training regime:

_Comfort and reassure the person to relieve anxiety._

" Boba," I whispered, leaning my lips down to his ear. His breath was coming fast and shallow, and his skin was clammy under my touch. " Its going to be okay," I promised him in a whisper. " You're going to get better. Wedge is going to get you some blankets, and we're going to make you feel so much better." I choked on my voice here, both because I didn't believe my own words – he was fading fast, his pulse weakening against my arm as I held him – and at the mention of Wedge.

" You rememeber your son, Boba Fett?" I asked in a teary whisper. " He's not a baby anymore. He'll want to meet you," I said, my own breath choppy as I let my tears fall on the dying body of the man I had loved. " So you can't die," I said, raising my voice, stilling it. " You can't." 

Wedge ran in with an armful of blankets, and I took them from him and began to wrap them around Boba. I took one of the larger blankets and laid it on the floor, and gentley moved him onto it, stuffing another under his head. When he was sufficiently covered, I sat beside him and held his hand.

" Mom," Wedge said, his voice tiny, afraid. " Is he going to die?" I looked up, and I could tell that seeing my face red and teary was even more terrifying to him than seeing our cave become soaked with Boba's blood.

" Come here, baby," I said to him, trying at a smile and coming up with something like one. Wedge walked cautiously over to me. " I need you to do something for me," I said, my voice shaking. I put an arm around him and he sat down beside me, clutching my side.

" I need you to help me wake him up," I said, taking Wedge's hand and placing it on Boba's clammy forehead. " Ask him to wake up – ask him to do it for you," I said, " You don't even have to ask out loud. He'll still hear you." Wedge looked up at me.

" Like . . . magic?" he asked weakly. I nodded, and shut my eyes as Wedge concentrated on his task.

" Mom?" Wedge said after awhile. I opened my eyes hopefully, but Boba was still comatose.

" What is it?" I asked, reaching over to stroke his hair.

" Is he – a bad man?" he asked, looking at Boba. " Is that why someone shot him?"

I paused before answering. Was Boba Fett a bad man? 

" Yes," I answered, a flick of pain stabbing me as I said it. " But we still have to help him."

" Why Mommy?" Wedge asked, not taking his small hand off of his father's forehead.

" Because that's the way the world works," I said, " I'm sorry to say it, but its true. Good people have mercy, even when they know that the person they are helping might not do the same for them. It is the burden of having a soul."

I knew Wedge wouldn't understand what I meant, but the answer silenced him anyway. He turned back to Boba.

" Look, Mom," he said, his voice quiet, careful. " He's opening his eyes." I shot to Boba's side and had a look for myself: sure enough, his eyes were cracked open. He looked over at me and blinked a few times.

" My –" he stuttered, wincing. " Ship."

" Yay!" Wedge cried, taking his hand away to clap gleefully. I, on the other hand, stood, stomped to the entrance of the bath, turned and screamed:

" IDIOT!" 

Boba and Wedge stared at me, boggling.

" Mommy?" Wedge squeaked.

" Wedge, get away from him," I said, holding out my hand. Somewhat reluctantly, he stood up, walked to me, and turned back before leaving the bath altogether.

" I'm glad you're okay, mister," he called back to Boba before trotting off. Boba said nothing in response, just continued to engage in a staring contest with me. Whereas I had been petting and cooing to it moments ago, I then intensely wanted to rip his head off.

" Did you – just," he said in a weak voice that was slowly growing steadier, " Call me – an idiot?"

" Yeah, what'are you going to do about it, tough guy?" I shouted back. " I can't believe you – I CAN'T believe you. You actually got me feeling sorry for you – ha! Of course it required you practically dying in my arms, but still, I fell for it. I nurse you back to life – idiot that I am! – and you ask me about your damn ship. Well, to HELL with you, Boba Fett." 

I stormed out of the bath area before he could respond.

When I returned to the front rooms of the cave, Wedge was standing, richly confused, in the kitchen. I stood there in thought for a moment myself, tapping my foot on the floor of the cave and trying not only to decide what to do, but how I felt. Boba was alive – however clumsily, Wedge and I had saved his life together. Was I happy about this? Or did I really want to kill him myself? I was still bitter about the past, about his abandonment of us. It infuriated me that I was similtaneously able to feel relief at his safety.

Or was he safe? I went to the entrance of the cave, and looked outside. The skies were clear, the surronding rocks still and silent. But it wasn't impossible that Boba had been followed – if he had brought danger to our son's doorstep, I knew that I really _would_ kill him. Until then, I decided, we should have some protection.

" Wedge," I said, turning back to him. He was drinking from one of the glasses of Bantha milk that he had poured earlier. " How would you like to go for a ride in a ship?" His eyes jerked up, and I could see, with huge relief, the confusion of the day's events lifting with his excitement.

" A real ship?" he asked, a bit skeptical at first. He knew I didn't exactly own a fleet. I nodded.

" Real – and its just outside here," I said. " But we can't take the speeder – do you think you can make it down the rocks, if I help you?" He nodded, grinning hugely.

" Sure, no problem!" he chirped.

We made our way slowly down the rocky slope toward the canyon floor, and searched the landscape for _Slave 1_. It wasn't long before we found the hulking spacecraft, parked hastily on the rocky terrain.

" Mom, there!" Wedge shouted when he spotted it, pointing. We made our way over to the Slave 1, which was still radiating warmth from its last flight.

" Who's is it?" Wedge asked, running his small hand along the body of the cooling ship.

" It – it belongs to a friend of mine," I said, not ready yet to explain about Boba, about who he really was, about what his return might mean. " We're going to store it for him – in the cave, in that big, empty space to the left of the kitchen." I paused, put my hands on my hips, and looked up at Boba's ship. " But first," I muttered, suddenly daunted by the prospect, " We have to fly it there."

" How do we get in?" Wedge asked, bouncing with excitement. I remembered at least this much – I opened the boarding ramp, and Wedge ran in ahead of me. I heard him gasp when he reached the cockpit. Following him in, I saw why: the cockpit was covered with Boba's blood – the controls were a sticky mess, and the pilot's seat and floor were as well. I groaned. Wedge backed off, suddenly less enthused about the vehicle.

" Look at this mess," I said, tsking, and trying to keep my tone light for my son's sake. 

" This is that man's ship, isn't it?" Wedge asked. 

" Yes," I said, plainly, punching controls and starting the ship. I hadn't flown it since I was eighteen years old, and it wasn't very similar to the Republic vessels I'd flown at the Academy. I had expected it all to come back to me as soon as I saw the control panel, but suddenly I wasn't so sure that a smooth landing in the cave would be possible, and was beginning to regret bringing Wedge along.

" But you said it was your friend's ship," Wedge continued, timid but persistant. " That man is your friend?"

" I – suppose you could say that," I said curtly, climbing into the pilot's chair and pressing the button that closed the boarding ramp. " Come over here," I said to Wedge, and when he did I lifted him into the 'co-pilot's chair, which still bore the restraints Boba had worn as a child when flying with his father. When I had Wedge snuggly buckled in, he continued his query:

" But you said he was a bad man," he reminded me.

" Yes, I guess I did," I said shortly, quickly losing my paitence with this line of questioning, and where I knew it was headed. I pulled _Slave 1_ off the canyon floor, and we lifted up over the landscape.

" Mom, your restraints aren't buckled," Wedge warned me.

" Wedge –"

" If he's a bad man then why are you friends with him?" he finally asked.

What a question – something that I hadn't been able to answer in all the years that I'd felt an undying devotion to Boba, who had shown me so little in return.

" I don't know!" I snapped. " Quiet, please! I've got to concentrate on flying this thing." We moved steadily toward the cave – the part I was worried about approached: guiding the ship into the garage entrance – it didn't offer much room for error, the opening being roughly the size of _Slave 1 _when it was turned on its engines, in landing position. 

When it came time to pull into the cave, my knuckles were white on the controls. Even Wedge looked nervous beside me as _Slave 1_ tilted into its landing position. But, amazingly, I was able to pull in without scratching the ship along the side of the cave. Before I turned the engines off, I made sure the twin blaster cannons were rotated to point outside of the cave, and that the proton torpedo launchers on the back of the ship were armed. Just in case someone came looking for him, it would be our best hope of getting rid of them, with Boba in such a sorry state.

Wedge and I left the ship and looked around our home – there was a thick trail of blood leading back to the bath, and I knew the mess was only worse back there. I sighed, and prepared myself to say something to my son that was horribly inappropriate, but then, we had never led normal, cushy lives:

" Help me clean up the blood?" I asked, my tone uncertain. Wedge was thoughtful for a moment before answering.

" Okay," he said, almost cheerfully. 

We spent the rest of the day scrubbing, mopping and washing everything that had been dirtied by Boba's blood, including the inside of _Slave 1_. I tried not to let myself notice that I was allowing my son take part in my own disgusting life cycle – cleaning up after Boba's mess.

While Wedge was cleaning in the kitchen, I went back to the bath with a mop and a bucket of water. Boba's eyes snapped open when I walked in, and he grunted under his blankets.

" I expect compensation for this," I snapped, not looking at him as I began to clean. " I'm not doing you any favors anymore."

He said nothing, but kept his eyes open as I worked. When I was finished I looked over at him. He stared at me in silence.

" What am I supposed to tell him about you?" I asked him in a hissed whisper. " How do I explain you to our son? If you're just going to leave again, I might like to spare him the pain of knowing that you're his father."

Boba offered no suggestions, only looked away from me, so I picked up my mop and bucket, and left.

When the cave was clean again, I began to make dinner for Wedge and I. I also, grudingly, made a thin soup for Boba. Wedge sat at the table and watched me work.

" Mom?" he said after a long time. I paused in the middle of slicing an otoowerg root and looked up, but didn't turn. I knew what was coming. 

" Who is that man?" he asked, his tone suggesting that he could already sense that it would be a touchy subject for me.

I whirrled around. 

" Wedge, I'm sorry," I said in a rush, flustered by the coming sentence. " But he's your father." 

Wedge frowned, looked down at his hands on the table.

" Um," he said, quietly, " My father?"

" Yes, baby," I said, going to him, sitting beside him at the table and placing a gentle hand on his back. " You do know – what that is, don't you?" He pursed his lips and thought for a moment.

" Yeah," he finally said, " The Rodian boy in my book has one. I wasn't sure if – it was something only aliens had."

" No," I said, wondering in that moment if Mace had purposefully not included any books that featured human father characters in the ones he brought for Wedge. " Humans have fathers, too."

" Have you got one?" Wedge asked, looking up me, his innocent question like a kick to the ribs.

" I had one," I said, " But he died before I was born."

" Why did he die?" he asked.

" Wedge," I said, my voice tight. I was trying not to get angry, because I knew he couldn't understand why these questions burned my ears. " Let's get back to what we were talking about before. That man back there – his name is Boba Fett – he's your father. How . . . do you feel about that?"

He looked down at the table.

" I don't know," he muttered. " Does that mean – he has to live with us?"

I sighed. " If you don't want him here," I said, " I'll ask him to leave."

Wedge thought about this for a moment.

" Maybe we should let him stay," he said. " Since he's hurt." I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Now that the secret was out, I knew that whether Boba left or stayed, things would still be hard for him. 

After I had served Wedge his dinner and set my own plate down on the table, I filled a thermos with soup and brought it back to Boba. Again, as soon as he heard my footsteps, his eyes snapped open.

" Relax," I said, " Its me."

He blinked, said nothing.

" I thought you should eat," I said, holding up the thermos.

" No thanks," he grumbled, shutting his eyes again. I fumed in silence for a moment.

" Fine," I snapped. " Great. Starve to death – what do I care?" I stomped back out to the kitchen, slammed the thermos down onto the table, and fell heavily into my seat. Wedge was staring at me.

" Mom," he said, " Do you like him, even?" he asked, his young mind completely baffled by his first images of his parents' relationship.

" No," I said. " I think he's a despicable person, and I highly recommend that you don't get attached to him, because he'll certainly desert us again after he's gotten what he wants here –  and who knows what that is, exactly." I shovelled two quick bites into my mouth without looking up, and then threw my fork down, sat back, and crossed my arms over my chest. I looked across the table, at my poor, bug-eyed son. 

" Oh, honey," I said, pushing away from the table and going to him. I hugged him, and his small arms wrapped around my shoulders.

" Don't be angry, Mommy," he said quietly. I smiled to myself, wished it was that easy. Boba choose this moment to limp out from the back of the cave, dragging his blankets along with him, taking slow, labored steps and looking like the walking dead. Wedge and I stared. He walked past the kitchen and toward the front of the cave.

" What do you think you're doing?" I barked. He stopped, turned his head toward us, and said, with a glare:

" Getting my ship." He wobbled on his feet as he said this, and I nearly laughed at loud at his moronic persistance. It was embarrassingly obvious that if he stood for a few moments longer he would drop from exhastion. Despite this, he turned back toward the cave and took another shaky step, nearly tripping over the blankets he was dragging along.

" Um, Boba?" I said, supressing a wicked grin, " Hello?" He looked back at me, grudgingly, to see me pointing back at the garage, and his ship, which was parked there. He stared at it for a long time, and I half expected him to start hobbling over to it, climb in and fly off.

Instead he said, " Oh," and took two more shaky steps, this time toward the bed, before collasping into it.

" Excuse me," I called, annoyed with his presumption that he was still welcome there. " Get out of my bed." He mumbled something into the mattress.

" What was that?" I snapped.

" S'my bed," he said in a grunt. " Came from my ship." I scowled, unable to argue with that.

Wedge and I finished our dinner and retired to his small bed, which was vastly uncomfortable for me, but still, I told myself, better than giving in to Boba and sliding into bed beside him. I knew that if I let that happen, all my defenses would crumble. 

" Mom?" Wedge whispered just as I was finally beginning to drift off.

" Go to sleep," I whispered back. " Its been a long day."

" Okay, but can I ask one question?" 

I sighed. " Sure. _One_." I knew whatever it was it would be about Boba, and would probably be therefore also impossible to answer.

" Why is that man my father?" he asked. I put an arm around his small waist and leaned forward to kiss the back of his head.

" Because your mother made some bad choices when she was young," I said. " But in hindsight, I'm glad I did. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have had you. And you are the best thing in my life, Wedge." I squeezed him to me. " You know how much I love you, right?"

" Yes, Mommy," he said, patting my hand. " I love you, too."

After that he finally drifted off to sleep, but for me it wasn't so easy. Especially a few hours later, when I heard Boba dragging around in the kitchen, knocking things about and cursing under his breath. I sat up, pulled back the hanging sheets that made up Wedge's 'room,' and went to see what he was doing.

In the kitchen I found him drinking the cold soup from the thermos. He had obviously tried to heat it – there was an overturned saucepan near the fireplace – but had been hindered by his condition. I sat across from him at the table, folded my arms and watched him. I wanted to say something, ask him something – possibly why he had shown up at my doorstep bleeding and nearly dead – but I didn't get the feeling that he was in the mood for talk.

" Want me to heat that up?" I finally asked. He shook his head.

" Its fine," he muttered. Frustrated with his attitude, I left the table and slid into our bed, telling myself that I was reclaiming it, not relinquishing my will. I waited there, pretending to sleep and listening to Boba's movements in the kitchen.

It was so like the first night we had spent together in the cave that I almost laughed at the sad irony. Me waiting in the darkness for Boba's next step, wondering what it would be, frightened and excited. Only now there was the heavy weight of the past hanging over us as he moved toward the bed.

When he fell into it, he stayed on his side. I told myself I was relieved about this, and began to drift into a shallow sleep. When Boba spoke, I snapped awake easily.

" I killed him," he said.

I didn't have to ask who he was referring to. Mace. 

My heart sank in my chest and I curled into a ball, pincing my eyes shut against the truth. My friend was dead. 

" I," Boba said then, with a pause, " Killed Dooku, too."

This sent me over the edge. The man who had killed my father was dead, and yet I felt no relief. In the moment before I collasped into silent sobs, I wondered if this was the reason Boba's once bright eyes now looked dull: he had seen the other side of revenge and found only a cold and empty space, devoid of meaning and soaked with blood.

I tried to hide my tears from Boba, but he must have felt the bed shaking as I cried. He moved over to me, slowly, and wrapped an arm around my waist. I didn't turn, but let him curl around me while I wept.

There were many questions that I would eventually want to ask him about that day, about what had happened and what he had divulged. But that night, exhasted, we only held each other in the dark, letting them go unanswered.


	12. Chapter Twelve

I woke early the next morning, and rolled toward the cave's front entrance, watching the sun rise outside. I turned and looked back at Boba, who was asleep with a grimace on his face. 

          So it wasn't a dream, I thought, letting all that was said the night before rush back to me. Boba was back in our lives, for better or worse. I wanted to reach across the bed and stroke his cheek – I was certain that he was in a lot of pain, and wanted, whether he deserved it or not, to offer him some comfort. But, despite the small bridge that had been crossed in the darkness the night before, there was still a wall between us. I slid out of bed without waking him.

          The smell of breakfast cooking woke Wedge quickly, and he pulled back the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the cave and walked out, yawning and stretching.

          " What's for breakfast?" he asked, climbing into a chair at the table. I saw his eyes fall on Boba's sleeping form in the bed, and he jumped a bit, remembering.

          " Dustcrepes," I said, watching him stare at his father. I could see him wondering what the point of having one was, anyway.

          " Is he going to eat with us?" he asked.

          " I don't know," I said, still tired and confused myself. " I can't tell you what he'll do or not do. He does whatever he wants."

          " Oh," Wedge said quietly, as I served breakfast. I saw Boba stir in annoyance at the sound of our voices – the cave didn't exactly allow for privacy or shelter from noise.

          " Come and eat if you're hungry," I shouted to him, taking my own seat and starting in on my breakfast. I wondered if he would be willing to tell me what had happened – had he really killed Dooku? I had a hard time believing it, but, then, it might explain his battle scars.

          He stayed where he was for awhile, stubborn, but eventually began to propel himself out of bed. His movements were labored and painful to watch, and he winced at almost every step toward the table. When he fell into a chair I got up and fixed a plate of dustcrepes for him, setting it down in front of him without ceremony and returning to my own meal. Wedge, meanwhile, was picking boredly at his breakfast and staring at Boba, unashamed.

          Boba rubbed his forehead, groaned, and then looked up to see both Wedge and I looking at him, waiting to see what he would do next.

          " What?" he snapped, and we both turned our eyes back to our plates.  

          After breakfast, Wedge pulled some toys from his room and brought them out to play with on the floor – or, to pretend to play with them while he studied Boba out of the corner of his eye. Boba was doing little more than lying his head on the table and occasionally groaning in pain, but apparently this was fascinating to our son. I knelt at the stream rinsing dishes and continued to wonder in silence what the hell was going on.

          " We need to change your bandages," I called to Boba. " I never got a chance to clean them properly. I'm going to go to the market for more gauze, and something for the pain, if you'd like."

          " I'm not taking Geonosian medicine," he grumbled without looking up.

          " Suit yourself," I said, annoyed, " Anything else you need?" Wedge looked up, obviously having a few things in mind if I was taking requests.

          " Death sticks," he said. 

          " Ah, self medication – brilliant," I muttered, rolling my eyes. " Forget it. You don't need a narcotic addiction on top of all of this other junk." He looked up at me and sneered.

          " Oh, it's the mother I never had," he snapped sarcastically before letting his head fall back onto the table.

          " Of course, right, make fun of me because I dare to give a damn about you," I said, marching past Wedge and heading for my landspeeder.

           " Wait," Boba said, looking up and frowning. I turned back, and he shifted his eyes down to Wedge. " You're going to leave –" he stopped and looked back to me, figuring that I'd understand what he was asking.

          " Yeah," I said, " It'll be a relief to go to the market a-l-o-n-e for once. Got a problem with that?" I could tell that he did, but didn't want to admit it, perhaps because he knew I might physically attack him if he did. After all, I had put in six years time raising our son alone. He could keep his eye on him for a few minutes while I stopped off at the market.

          " Unless," I said, " You think someone might be coming after you – unless you think its not safe for him to be here while you're still – healing."

          " No," he answered easily.

          " Whoever did that to you couldn't have followed you?" I asked. He shook his head.

          " They're d-e-a-d," he said dryly. I rolled my eyes.

          " Quit teasing me," I muttered, climbing into my my speeder.

          " Mom," Wedge said as I prepared to leave, obviously nervous about the prospect of being left with a man who may have been his father, but was still a stranger to him.

          " You'll be fine," I promised him as I left, he and Boba both watching me with a fear of being left alone with the other in their eyes. I, on the other hand, was happy to give them a chance to get to know each other, even if Boba would probably just moan and wince and drag around the cave while Wedge hid in a corner.

          They had to start somewhere.

          I realized something as I motored off toward the market: even after all that had been said and done, I trusted Boba enough to leave him alone with our son. Which meant that I actually still had a great deal of trust invested in him.

          Which meant that I might be able to forgive him. Which terrified me.

When I returned from the market with fresh medical supplies and some groceries for the night's dinner, Boba and Wedge were both in the garage, Boba inspecting the nicks and scratches _Slave 1 _had received during its last exploit, and Wedge standing ten feet behind him, watching and asking his usual stream of endless questions. I parked quietly on the other side of the cave, and snuck into the kitchen with my purchases, listening to their conversation.

          " What happened to your arm?" Wedge was asking him. 

          " Someone threw a thermal detonator at me," Boba explained plainly, keeping his eyes on his ship.

          " What's a thermal detonator?" Wedge asked.

          " A weapon," he said, " A weapon I didn't expect a couple of Imperial morons to use," he muttered to himself.

          " What's an Imperial moron?" 

          " Someone who works for the Empire," Boba answered.

          " What's the Empire?"          

          " A bunch of idiots who think they own the universe," Boba told him easily.

          " Why do they think that?" Wedge asked.

          " Because they're idiots," Boba said. I walked over and cleared my throat, and they both turned.

          " Mom," Wedge said, running over to me and throwing and arm around my leg. " Why are they idiots?"

          " I don't know," I said, picking him up and kissing his cheek. " Did you have fun while I was gone?" I asked, casting Boba a look. He turned back to his ship.

          " Yep," Wedge answered. " He's going to fix his ship," he said, pointing to Boba and _Slave 1_. " See?" 

          " He needs to let me change his bandages first," I said, looking at Boba. He turned to me.

          " Dammit, Calli," he mumbled, " Don't worry about it."

          " Excuse me," I said with phony sweetness, putting Wedge down. " But I don't want you d-y-i-n-g of an infection in front of our s-o-n. Meet me back at the bath when you're ready to stop acting like a child."

          With that I took the supplies I had just bought and headed for the bath. I heard Boba say to Wedge before following me:

          " Don't touch my ship while I'm gone."

          " A-alright," Wedge stuttered.

          In the back of the cave I lit a fire and began heating water to fill the basin – the usual routine when Wedge had a bath. Boba stood and watched.

          " What are you doing?" he asked.

          " You're not mucking up the pool again," I said, " It still hasn't drained completely from yesterday, and I'm not bathing in your blood."

          We didn't speak as I worked, and when I was done I looked up at him.

          " Take off your clothes," I said plainly, pretending not to be as embarrassed as I was. Boba took off his shirt and pants, and hesitated.

          " It's a little late to be modest, don't you think?" I said, turning my back. When I heard him climbing into the basin, I turned back around, and found him sitting awkwardly in the small tub, his legs hanging over the side, a white stick in his mouth and a match in his hand.

          " Where did you get that?" I asked, furious. 

          " From my pants pocket," he said, puffing on it. " Relax. Its just a cigarillo." He tipped his head back and blew smoke toward the ceiling, muttered a curse.

          Annoyed, I went to him and began pulling off bandages, causing him to twitch and curse more loudly. I took the gauze off of his shoulder, his right ankle, his left knee, and, finally, I reached down into the water to pull off the bloodied towel that was pressed against his worst wound.

          " Careful," he said, grabbing my wrist as I did this. I froze, my arms wrapped around his middle, gripping the bandages, my chest pressed against his back and my lips an inch from his ear. 

          Neither of us moved. I could feel my own resistance amplified in him: we didn't want to go through the motions of our ruined attempt at love again.

          " You killed Dooku," I said without meaning to, nervous. I was dying to know how, and, furthermore, why.

          " I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled, putting out the cigarillo against the side of the tub.

          " Fine," I said, yanking the bandages away. He growled in pain.

          " Damn you!" he shouted, cringing and pinching his eyes shut. " What do you want me to say? That I killed him for you? Of course I did!"

          We were both silent for a time after that. I sat back, holding the dirty bandages, letting the words sink in. Boba leaned forward in the tub, said nothing and didn't turn to face me.

          The stone in my heart cracked open, and every part of me that couldn't bear being hurt again cursed at it for breaking away. But I couldn't help it – when he had betrayed me I had tried to hold my love for Boba in a tiny, neglected space inside, hoping to suffocate it. But it had forced itself out in that moment.

          I moved back over to him, taking up the sponge and stick of medicinal soap that I had bought along with the bandages. I reached around him, dipped the sponge in the water and coated it with soap.

 " This might hurt," I warned, holding the dripping sponge just above his shoulder. He didn't respond, so I brought it down onto the wound, washing it carefully. Boba didn't even flinch. I moved down to work on his ankle and busted knee next, careful not to look him in the eye as I went. Finally, I went again to his back, and reached down, stiffer this time, to wash his side.

          " Now climb out," I said, " So I can re-wrap them."

          " Leave me," he mumbled, " I want to stay here awhile."

          I wanted to ask him what was wrong – he was physically hurt, but hadn't he gotten everything he'd hoped for in killing Mace? 

          But I couldn't. I knew he hadn't gotten what he really wanted – his father, alive again, smiling and patting him on the back for a job well done. 

          No, the only way he could revive his father was to put on his armor, and when he did, he would be taking himself away again from the people who loved him – those of us who were still alive. 

          I left the room and let him sulk in private. I was still dying to know what had happened, but I knew he wasn't yet ready to tell me. When I returned to the front of the cave I sat on our bed and watched Wedge playing with the holovid, reflecting on the fact that I hadn't really let it sink in yet that Mace was dead, and that Boba had killed him. I shut my eyes.

          What had become of my life? I wondered, watching Wedge tinkering with his toys. When had I let it get so twisted and complex, so hurtful, so full of long stretches of loneliness and sustaining bursts of joy that I could barely set my eyes on before they slipped through my fingers?

          Was it the day I walked up to a ten year old boy who was scowling into his lunch tray and said hello?

          Was it the day I left the orphanage with said boy, full of impossible hopes for a normal life with him?

          Or the day I let a Jedi named Mace Windu introduce to me my dead parents?

          Had it all happened long before I was born, when my nosy but well-meaning father pried into the affairs of a Jedi master named Dooku?

          A Jedi Master who was now dead, at my orphan boy's hand. 

          I put my hands over my face, prompting Wedge to ask me what was wrong. I looked up at him, put on a smile, and held out my arms. He ran into them without hesistation.

          " Nothing's wrong," I told him, smoothing his hair. I was glad to offer him the exquisite reassurance of happy lies that only a parent can provide. Having been sheltered from nothing as a child – well aware at six that my mother was dead and my father was nonexistant – I could appreciate the effectiveness of a warm untruth.

          But, I thought to myself as Wedge returned to his playthings, maybe nothing was wrong after all. Boba had completed his quest, and he had come away from it broken but alive. Maybe we could heal each other – maybe Wedge could heal both of us – and let the past lie in its grave with those we had left in our wake. Maybe it was over.   

          No.

          There was no fooling myself anymore – everything naïve in me had died the last time that Boba had blown out of my life.

          I knew it would never be over. There was a storm in him that would not quell, even with the death of a million Jedi.

          There were no Jedi left to kill – the last of them had dispersed or been destroyed. And with Jango's murderer dead, there was no justice left to inact.

          There was only the pain of the past, and the screaming question of the future. I knew that it would not be bright for the two of us, but I also knew that I would wait by his side, then and again, while he replenished his energy before leaving again to fight the battle with himself that he would not let die.

For the next week, Boba did little more than sleep and eat. He wasn't outwardly nasty to us – he answered my inquiries (Did he want something to drink? Were his cuts healing properly?) and Wedge's questions (Where'd you get that ship? How'd you learn to fly it? Are those _real_ ion cannons?) with a good deal of paitence and restraint – but there was something in him that was harsh and unwelcoming, and we tended to steer clear of him unless he was at the dinner table.

          I was nearly bursting, wanting to hear about what had happened with Dooku. Part of me was also curious about how Mace met his end, though I wasn't sure I wanted to hear about it. Either way, Boba didn't seem to want to open up, until one evening, just before dinnertime, when he was sitting at the entrance of the cave and smoking a cigarillo.

          " Calli," he said as I was walking by. I stopped, surprised that he had addressed me. Usually it was the other way around, and his answer would come only begrudgingly. " Come here," he said.

          I walked over, sat down beside him and took the cigarillo from his hand as he was bringing it to his mouth for another puff. I threw it out of the cave, and it bounced off a rock and went out. Boba scoffed.

          He shook his head. " You've changed," he said.

          " I guess we both have," I said. He let out his breath.

          " I, uh," he began, " Wanted to tell you about – you know. What happened to me. Why I came back, everything."

          " Oh, everything," I said, pulling my legs up to my chest. " This should be good."

           " Where's Wedge?" he asked, looking behind him.

          " Reading in his room," I said.

          " His room," he said with a scoff. " That kid should have a real house. And go to a real school, with other kids. I don't like the idea of my son living in a cave."

          " Your son?" I snapped. " Since when do you get to claim ownership, estranged one?" Boba looked at the ground.

          " He's still my son," he muttered.

          " Well, great, buy him a house and put him in Imperial boarding school. You're the one with the money," I said, annoyed with his declaration that the life I had set up for Wedge was not good enough. He was probably right – I certainly wanted better for our son myself – but I had done the best I had with what was available. 

          Boba sighed again. " Look," he said, " Do you want me to tell you, or not?"

          " Tell me," I said, quietly, defeated. " Tell me, of course tell me."

          He was quiet for a moment before he began, looking at his hands.

          " After I left here," he said, " We fought, the Jedi and I." Then and always, Boba would refuse to speak Mace's name, though he had learned it by then.

          " Our battle was – indecisive," he said. " If – if anything, anyone but you had led me to him, I would have been able to kill him, I know it. But I couldn't even see straight that day. I barely escaped with my life."

          " Where did you go?" I asked, something I had been wondering since I had heard this portion of the story from Mace.

          " A friend on Alderran," he told me. 

          " A princess on Alderran," I muttered in response, remembering Luna. He shrugged.

          " I hated you so much that day," he said, " It seemed like the right place to be." 

          We both fumed silently for a few moments after this. I felt that he had no right to resent me for unknowingly betraying him, when he had lied to me to hide his father's affiliation with Dooku even after he knew about my own father's death at that man's command. And the thought of him running to Luna after what had happened that day was not exactly thrilling. 

          " There was a bounty on him," he said after awhile, breaking the silence.

          " What?" I said, frowning.

          " Your Jedi friend," he said, not without a hint of malice. " Dooku put a bounty on him, and a couple of other Jedi that were still alive. I took the job."

          With this, I stood and began to walk away, furious, but Boba jumped up and grabbed my arm.

          " Let go of me!" I shouted, yanking myself from his grasp.

          " Quiet," he hissed. " You'll scare Wedge."

          " As if you care," I said, glaring at him. " You didn't seem to mind scaring him when you crawled in here the other day on your deathbed, hacking up blood –"

          " I didn't think of it," he muttered, " At the time."

          " Of course not," I said, " Wedge just gets lost in the tumble, doesn't he, while you're about the more important business of endlessly tormenting me?"

          " What are you talking about?" he demanded, turning back toward the cave's entrance.

          " Why else would you work for the man who killed my father?" I said, my voice faultering. 

          " I can't explain why I did it," he mumbled. I walked to him – I had a good mind to slap him across the face, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I was a little frightened of him, after all. He looked up at me, and I searched his eyes for the little boy who had been my best friend, but he was long gone. There was something else there, something not entirely cold or hard-edged, but I didn't have the strength to root it out anymore. I went back to the cave's entrance, and sat down again, waiting. 

          " I was angry," he said, walking to me and taking a seat, farther from me this time. 

" I wanted to do something that I knew would hurt you." 

Tears pooled in my eyes, but I hid my face from him. What had I done to provoke this rage? The chance encounter with Mace? I knew it had looked like more to him – like some sort of grand plan of mine to thwart his revenge. Maybe it had seemed like the perfect counteraction to my percieved betrayal of him – to foster a friendship with my own father's killer.

          " So I hunted down the Jedi," he continued. " I found him hiding on Dantooine, and I killed him. I'll spare you the details."

          " Thank you," I said quietly, my heart breaking for Mace. _My time here is coming to an end_, he had said when I last saw him. He was right, and in letting Boba go during their previous confrontation, he had certainly known that he was sealing his fate. Was he satisfied with this demise? Though he had always denied it, had he really felt guilt over what a little boy saw him do that day in the Coliseum?

          " I contacted Dooku," he continued, " And let him know that I'd made the kill. He told me he was pleased, and that he was on Geonosis and wanted the bounty delivered there." He paused, and I looked at him.

          " Geonosis," I said under my breath. " Why?"

          " The Geonosians have always had a labor contract with the Separatists, no matter how hard the Jedi tried to regulate their government after they won the battle here." 

          " The battle here," I said, frowning. " You were wearing your father's armor, I'm sure, when you met with Dooku about the job?" He nodded.

          " He didn't recognize – his old bodyguard?" I asked awkwardly, still not sure exactly what Jango Fett had meant to Count Dooku and his agenda.

          " He did," Boba said. " He seemed kind of amused by it, that I was returning to his service, following in my Dad's footsteps."

          " Amused?" I scoffed. " He must have remembered – what Geonosis meant to you. I don't understand why he would have you meet him there."

          Boba shrugged. " My father was just another hired hand to him," he said. " I doubt Dooku remembers his death, or that I was there to witness it."

          " Still," I said, " Its strange."

          " Well, I don't see why he would, but if he did have some kind of agenda involving me, it didn't exactly play out," Boba said with a coldness that made me shiver. " If he hadn't called me to Geonosis to make the delivery, I wouldn't have thought to kill him. In fact, I didn't, not until I was two steps in front of him. If I had been planning it he would have sensed it – he was a damn Jedi once himself. But when I was faced with him, here, on this planet, where you – where you and I – where everything –" he broke off, and glowered at the floor. I didn't know what to say.

          " I started thinking about you as I was walking to him to accept my payment," he said. " About what had happened to your father because of his dirty politics, and to mine, too. How I had been standing beside him with my father that day in the Coliseum, but after Dad was dead I looked back up to the group of crooked politicians that he'd been working for, and they all turned their backs on me."

          " So you killed him," I said, shutting my eyes. The one selfless thing Boba had done for me, and it was murder.

          " I did it without thinking," he said. " It was stupid. But his face – he has the coldest face, the most smug expression. I was tired of letting him pull the strings, and I guess – I guess I felt guilty, for what working for him would mean to you. So I pulled my blaster out and shot him. The second in command to the Emporer, and I killed him. After it happened, none of us moved – the room was filled with stormtroopers, some Geonosian officials, and a few Imperial officers. Everyone was stunned, even me. I managed to get away, but I got caught by a thermal detonator one of the troopers threw." He scoffed. " Figures it would be one of them."

          I didn't understand what he meant by that, but then, I didn't understand most everything that Boba did. He had risked his life to exact my revenge for me. I wasn't sure it was what I wanted, but I was touched by the gesture, in a twisted way.

          " So what now?" I asked. Years ago I would have been too scared to ask him about his plans, hoping that if I didn't he wouldn't think to make any. But that strategy had never worked, so I gave in to my curiousity.

          Boba said nothing for a long time, and then:

          " Don't ask me that." 

          I didn't know whether to hold him or tell him off. I got up and went back into the kitchen, tried to find something to busy myself with, but I felt restless and upset – had Boba and I come full circle now that our fathers' killers were dead? It certainly didn't feel like it. I had never even seen Dooku, I couldn't picture a world without his cold cruelty; the smug expression that Boba had described meant nothing to me. And just because he was dead it didn't mean the evil and tyranny that the Empire was built on would end. There was still Palpatine, who had revealed himself to be behind the movement at last, and had declared himself Emporer of the galaxy he stole from the Republic. 

          Wedge trotted out of his room, book in hand, and came into the kitchen to poke around in the cabinets for a snack.

          " Stop," I said, " Its almost dinnertime."

          " Aw, Mom," he said, noticing me standing in silence by the cooler. He walked over, leaned around me to have a look at my face.

          " What's wrong, Mommy?" he asked. I looked down at him.

          " Your father wants to put you in school," I said, " What do you think about that?"

          " I don't know," he said. " What's it like?"

          " You read a lot of books," I said. " And learn how things work, and all about the different spiecies and planets in the universe."

          " Sounds good!" Wedge said, grinning. I smiled, but inwardly I was afraid. The Empire had taken over most of the galaxy's educational systems and had made it mandatory that they become boarding schools. It was easier to program the children to love the Empire this way.

          And even if Wedge did resist the Empire's mind control, he would still be in danger. He was his father's son, after all. If he didn't like something, he would fight it. And that was even more terrifying to me than the idea of him accepting the Empire with open arms. 

          There was a small resistance that was whispered about sometimes in the market – those who were almost hopelessly clamouring for revolution after almost five years of Imperial rule. But the arm of the Empire was so strong and wide-reaching that it was foolishness, and had gotten many involved killed already. I wasn't an expert on the movement, but I knew that young people, often those who had defected from the Empire's military training programs, were the most likely to join the idealistic rebellion. I reached down and took Wedge's hand.

          " Promise me you'll never go looking for trouble?" I said to him. 

          " I won't," he said, grinning, " I promise." I wrapped him in arms, feeling hopeless. He was growing up in a dangerous world, and the eager promise of a six year old would mean little in the future, I knew.

Days passed. While Boba had spent most of his free time messing around with adjustments to his ship in previous visits, this time he wasn't doing much at all. Often he would spend hours sitting at the front of the cave and staring out over the rocks of Geonosis, or soaking in the bath with a wet washcloth draped over his face. 

As he retreated into himself, I became more and more on edge – there was a feeling in the cave of the three of us waiting for something to happen, and I didn't like it. 

Meanwhile, I saw Wedge being drawn in by his mystery as I had once been as a child. He was again the quiet, melancholy loner, and with Wedge he had the added celebrity of being his estranged father. As Boba tip-toed around the boundaries of our lives Wedge tried cautiously to edge in closer, his eyes always on this elusive man I called his father.

He would walk slowly over to him while he sat at the edge of the cave, and I would listen to their stilted conversation from the bed or the kitchen.

" What are you doing?" Wedge asked him one day – it was what we were both dying to know. What they hell was Boba doing back in our lives? He didn't seem to have much use for us – was he just returning to his old haunt, happening in upon us and perhaps wishing he had found the cave again empty? 

Boba looked at Wedge.

" What its to you?" he asked him. I rolled my eyes. He had a right, I suppose, to be angry with the world, and even an understandable prejudice against me, but showing hostitily to his six year old son was taking it a little too far.

Wedge shrugged. " I just wanted to know why you're sitting over here," he explained paitiently.

" I'm thinking," Boba answered, looking away.

" About what?" Wedge asked, sitting down beside him and making himself comfortable. Boba sighed, visibly annoyed.

" Things," he said.

" What things?"

" I don't really feel like explaining it to you," Boba said.

" Why not?" Wedge asked, geniuely curious to know why someone wouldn't want to talk to him.

" Because you wouldn't understand," Boba told him.

" Why wouldn't I?" Wedge asked, not accepting this.

" Look," Boba snapped, starting to loose his temper. He stopped himself though, and his shoulders dropped. I hoped he wouldn't turn, because I was staring at them now, waiting to see how he would handle this.

" Do you remember me?" he asked Wedge. " From – from when you were a baby?" Wegde frowned.

" I didn't know you when I was a baby," he answered easily.

" Right," Boba muttered, standing. I whirrled around, pretending to be busy with something in one of the cubboards while Boba walked past me toward the bath. Wedge stayed seated at the front of the cave, and when I turned around again he was looking at me. I shut the cuppboard and went to him.

" He doesn't like me," Wedge said in a small voice, looking up at me. I sat down beside him and wrapped him in my arms.

" Yes, he does," I promised him. " He doesn't know – he doesn't remember how to show you, but he loves you."

" He said he knew me when I was a baby," Wedge said.

" That's right," I answered. " He lived here when you were very young, and you loved him very much."

" I did?" Wedge said, confused by this.

" You did," I told him, " And I'm sorry you don't remember." I had been wondering if Boba himself remembered how much he had once loved his son, but my proof that he did was there that day – he wanted Wedge to recall the days when the three of us were happy together on Geonosis.

I left Wedge and walked back to the bath, where Boba was undressing for the tub. I stopped, and turned away, embarrassed. My cheeks burned red – his scars were healing, and he was beginning to look again like the man I had once fallen easily into.

" Its alright," he said. When I turned around he was in the pool, tipping his head back onto the stone edge. " What – you want something?"

" Yes," I said. " I want you to make a decision." He looked at me.

" What?"

" Are you staying or going?" I asked, swallowing a lump in my throat, still afraid to know. " I need to know now."

" Why?" Boba asked, his face darkening. " Got big plans?" He gave me a look that told me he doubted I did, and then drapped his washcloth over his face. I proceeded to catapault myself into the pool, rip the washcloth of his face, and, squatting into his lap, push him roughly back against the edge of the pool.

" As a matter of fact, I do," I said through gritted teeth. " I have plans for our son. I plan to spare him the pain and heartbreak of growing to love you before losing you again. I plan to shelter him from the hell I went through, hoping you'd come back, wondering if you even cared or ever thought of me. So, if you don't mind, let me know now, before he gets too attached, before he remembers how much he once loved you. Tell me what your plans are. Tell me what you're going to do."

Boba had a sneaky way, throughout his life, of avoiding making any promises to me outright. He never said the words, and so, I suppose, in his own twisted moral universe, he had never done me wrong, never broken any agreement, never smashed any plain understanding.

In this case, on that day, he did it again, by grabbing me there in the pool and pulling me to him, kissing me full on the lips.

Without thinking, I let myself melt into him and returned his kiss with a ferocity that surprised both of us. My body, lost to his for the last five years, managed rather easily to manuelly override my brain – without thinking, I kissed him. Without thinking I let his lips move to my neck while I clutched his shoulders desparately. Without thinking I let his hands push away the wet cloth of my shirt.

" Wait," I hissed, pushing him back, my mind regaining control. We both sat still in the water, gasping for air and staring at each other. " Stop," I said. " I don't want this. And anyway, Wedge."

Boba looked away from me, and I slowly pulled myself out of the water. I stood for a moment at the edge of the pool, but I couldn't come up with anything to say. He was silent in the water, slowly stilling his breath. I opened my mouth, shut it, and walked back out toward the kitchen. 

When I did, Wedge was sitting at the table reading. He looked up at me and frowned.

" How'd you get all wet?" he asked. I froze, trying to come up with something.

" Swimming lessons," I blurted out without thinking. 

" What?" Wedge said, laughing.

" S- swimming lessons!" I said, walking to him, frantically putting together a story in my mind. " I've decided we need to teach you how to swim, Wedge."

" Swimming?" he said, curious, pondering this. " That's why you're wet?"

" Well, yes!" I said, with a forced laugh. " You'll understand why eventually. Just – just bring one of the towels from the laundry and follow me!" I faked an exuberent smile. Wedge gave me a look like he didn't quite believe me, but at the same time he seemed willing to go along with it anyway. He pushed away from the table and trotted off to find a towel. 

I put a hand to my forehead and sighed to myself when he had gone. What was I doing – what had just happened? I didn't want to start all over again with Boba, because this time I knew what the ending would be. My heart was racing – I had thought that I had left this part of my life easily behind, but when Boba had taken me in his arms my defenses had crumbled like paper in flame.

Before I could get my head straight, Boba walked out into the kitchen, half-dressed, wearing only his pants. We stared at each other, both beginning to speak as Wedge rushed back into the kitchen. 

" Ready, Mom!" he said, clutching the towels I had asked him to get. He looked at Boba, then back to me. " Are we going?" he asked, sensing our tension.

" Going where?" Boba asked. I realized suddenly, in my heady state, that his voice was different than I remembered it. It was deeper, smokier, gritty now. I hated myself for finding it attractive.

" Swimming," I blurted out, taking Wedge's hand. " I'm going to teach him how to swim," I said, pulling our confused son toward the cave's entrance.

" What _for_?" Boba asked. I didn't answer him, just started down the rocky landscape, helping Wedge down as I went.

" Aww," he whined. " We're not taking the landspeeder?"

" It'll be good exercise," I insisted. In my hurray to get away from Boba's stare I had forgotten it.

As we walked toward the lagoon, which Wedge had never seen and I hadn't visited since before he was born, I heard someone quietly following us – Boba, of course. He was walking about fifty feet behind us, still shirtless, kicking rocks absently as he went. I groaned.

" Hey, he's coming, too!" Wedge said, turning with me and noticing him. " Why's he walking back there?" he asked me.

" I don't know," I said with a sigh. 

When we reached the pool a feeling of sad nostalgia washed over me. I hadn't been there since I was nineteen years old. An adult by some definitions, but, looking back from where I stood, with my son beside me and my scorned lover following close behind, I knew in retrospect that I had been only a child then.

" So," Wedge said, standing at the edge of the lagoon. " What do I do?"

" Um," I stuttered, not having thought this far ahead. Boba reached us then, and walked to the edge of the pool himself. Wedge and I watched him.

" I didn't know about this place," he said, looking down into the clear water, at the fish swimming below its surface.

" I never told you," I said quietly, something in me bothered by the fact that he had infiltrated the last of my hidden places. Keeping in this vein, he nodded and dove head first into the water. I gasped and Wedge giggled with glee, looking up at me.

" Can I do that, Mommy?" he asked, his eyes bright. I frowned.

" No," I said, deeply troubled by the fact that he might ever want to imitate anything Boba did. " You can't."

" Aw," Wedge said, sitting down on his towel. I watched Boba swim down to the bottum of the lagoon, and linger there before rising. When his head broke the surface he gulped the air, and looked at me. My heart stumbled over itself in an attempt to resist, to get away from the things that drew me to him – from that sort of look. He held his arms out.

" Come here," he said. I started toward him but stopped myself when I realized he was talking to Wedge.

" But I –" Wedge said, looking back at me, less brave in the face of actually climbing into the water. " Don't know how."

" Well you're not going to learn until you get in," Boba said sternly. Wedge dipped a toe in the water.

" Will you catch me?" he asked. Boba moved closer.

" Yes," he said. There was a moment between them then, both watching the other, a little cautious, a little eager to give in. There was an unexplicable rememberance. Sitting in the shadows beside the lagoon, I could feel it moving between the two people I loved most in the world.

" Okay," Wedge said, taking a deep breath.

He jumped in, and Boba caught him, bringing him back up to the surface. Wedge had a sort of surprised look on his face – he was trying to look braver than he really was. He wrapped his arms around Boba's neck.

" Good," Boba said shortly. 

" I did it!" Wedge said, beaming at me. I gave him an encouraging grin.

" You jumped in," Boba reminded him. " Actually swimming is a little more complicated."

" Okay," Wedge said, growing serious. Boba showed him how to move his arms and legs to stay afloat, and he gave it a try, sinking in the process. 

" Not quite," Boba said when he lifted him back up. Wedge clung to his father's shoulders but looked back to me – he looked nervous. I slid out of my skirt and walked over to the lagoon, jumping in with my tank and underwear on. I held on to the rocky edge of the lagoon and held my other hand out to Wedge.

" Come on," I said. " Try to swim to me." Wedge gave me an uncertain look.

" Make sure you're kicking your legs, not just flailing your arms," Boba said to him. " But try not to kick me in the face when you push off." Wedge giggled, and set off, paddling and kicking toward me. He faltered toward the end of his attempt and I had to reach out and catch him.

" Good job!" I said, kissing his wet cheek. He grinned, and looked back to Boba.

" Alright," Boba said, reaching out. " Now swim back, and don't give up at the end this time. Keep coming, because I'm not going to reach out and catch you like your mother did."

" Don't listen to him," I said, " Just try your best." 

Wedge pushed off, his kicking feet splashing me with water as he went, and headed furiously toward Boba. 

" Don't try so hard," Boba shouted over the noise of his paddling. " Swimming is fun. Or its supposed to be." With that, Wedge, reached Boba, and he took him in his arms.

" Wedge!" I said, swimming over to them. " You did it!"

He smiled hugely, and, holding him, his father fought to keep his identical grin in check.

When Wedge had worn himself out, Boba and I pulled ourselves out of the lagoon as well, and laid back on towels that we spread across the rocky floor of the canyon, letting ourselves dry in the sun. It wasn't long before Wedge had fallen asleep, and I moved him into the shade so his skin wouldn't burn.

" Thank you," I said, lying next to Boba on my towel, not looking at him. " For – joining us, today."

" Sure," Boba muttered.

" Are you angry with me?" I asked, annoyed with his tight-lipped attitude.

" No," he said, his eyes shut against the sun. " Its not you."

" What is it, then?" I asked, checking to make sure Wedge was still alseep.

" I don't know," he said, drapping his arm across his face to block the sun. " Don't worry about me so much."

" I can't help it," I muttered. I wanted to tell him then that I loved him and always would, but I didn't feel he deserved to hear it. I tried to remember if I had ever let him know. I hadn't.

He took his arm away and turned to look at me, squinting in the sun. His prenially tanned cheeks were turning pink. 

" Maybe you should get into the shade," he said, noticing the same redness surfacing on my much paler skin. I shrugged.

We stared at each other for awhile.

" You're going to get burned," he warned. I laughed out loud at the irony of that statement coming from Boba.

" Yeah, its too late for that," I said, shaking my head at myself.

" I never meant to hurt you," he said quickly, and I was surprised that he knew what I was implying.

" Great," I muttered, rolling over again onto my back. " Should I feel indebted to you, then – because you never _meant_ to hurt me? And what about Wedge?"

" I don't know," Boba said, looking away again. " I was just a kid. So were you."

" That doesn't change the fact that we brought a child into the world," I told him, not sure where this was going. We both looked at Wedge, sleeping in the shade, his hands curled under his chin.

" Thank you," Boba said suddenly. I turned and looked at him.

" What?"

" For taking care of our son while I was – away," he explained. " I feel like I should thank you."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. 

" Yes," I finally said. " You should. But I don't want you to think I did it as a favor to you."

" That's not what I meant," Boba said, standing. " I think we should go."

He walked over to Wedge and scooped him easily into his arms, still wrapped in his towel. Wedge blinked and looked up sleepily at his abductor.

" Oh, Dad," he muttered. " Are we going home now?" 

I watched Boba for his reaction – it was the first time Wedge had called him 'Dad,' or even remotely referred to him as his father.

Boba paused for a moment, then said simply:

" Yes. Time to go home."

We trekked back to the cave, Wedge asleep in Boba's arms for the entire trip. By the time we reached our home I was exhasted myself, from the sun, the swimming and the walking. While Boba placed Wedge gentley in his own bed, I pulled off my damp clothes and fell into ours, yanking a sheet loosely over me and letting my head sink blissfully into my pillow.

Already half asleep, I heard Boba's own clothes fall to the floor with a wet SMACK. I felt the sheet lift off of me and then drift back down over me after Boba had slid under it. Finally I felt his skin, still warm from the sun, pressing against my bare back. His arms went around my shoulders as he curled up against me from behind, and I almost sobbed with relief, I was so warmed by this small, silent gesture.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Hey everyone: Episode III inspired me to finish this story. Obviously, parts of it are AU now that the new movie has revealed certain things . . . Anyway, sorry for the long wait, and enjoy!

Chapter 13

In the days after that I didn't let myself wonder if Boba would stay – I knew, with a resigned certainty, that he would not. I didn't bother to try and guess when he would go, I just moved around the edges of his life until he pulled me in. I had a new fear, now, and it was much more profound than my girlish anxiety over his sporadic presence in my life. I was afraid for Wedge.

I suppose I always knew that he would break our son's heart, one way or another. Before I had feared that he would hurt Wedge by never showing up, never offering any support or giving a hint that he cared at all. When I saw the two of them begin to grow closer, however, I knew that the way he would crush him would be much worse than I'd suspected: he'd treat him the way he'd always treated me, as if he was the most important person in his life, his pure joy, the thing that grounded him – until he got one foot out the door.

I was also afraid that Boba might get nostalgic for the days he'd spent hunting with his father as a boy and try to bring Wedge up in the same manner. At one point he had talked about school, but as I saw the two of them becoming friends I couldn't help but get suspicious about what Boba might really want for our son. After he had been staying with us for almost a month, still mostly closed-mouthed but progressively livelier, I decided to broach the subject. If he did have aims for making Wedge a second in command, I needed to put my foot down firmly from the beginning. I figured I had a nice wagering chip in the fact that I'd raised Wedge all on my own, that he owed Boba nothing really, save some genes. But I had never fought Boba on anything so important, and after our last blowout I didn't know if I'd be able to handle it.

Before I brought it up, I tried to get an idea of how Boba might respond to such an accusation – or realization. My first hint of his intentions for Wedge came when we were lying in bed late one night, a powerful rainstorm pounding against the rocky walls of our home. Boba had helped me drag our bed deeper inside the cave so that it wouldn't be soaked by the rain splatter.

" I've never seen it rain here," he said, sitting up on his elbows in bed and watching the water pour down over the cave's entrance like it were a waterfall. " Will we be safe?" he asked, casting a glance toward Wedge's makeshift room.

" We'll be fine," I told him, yawning. " You were never around during rainy season, I guess. It gets so hard to remember, when you were here, when you weren't. In some ways it feels like you always were, though actually the fact that you once lived here seems pretty alien now . . .," I trailed off, feeling a little delirious. It had been a long day, running after Wedge, getting some preserves ready for winter and tinkering with my faulty old speeder . . .

" Calli," he said, looking down at me as my eyes drooped. " Did he . . . ask about me? Ever wonder . . . What did you tell him?"

" No, he never asked about you," I told him, a little sourly. " He didn't even realize that humans are supposed to have fathers until the day you showed up here, half-dead." It pained me a little to say it. As I'd become more intimate with the scars that attack had left on Boba's body, I'd fully realized how close he'd come to dying.

" Oh," Boba muttered, sinking down onto the pillow next to me. He put his forehead next to mine and looked into my eyes. " What did he say when you told him, anyway?" he asked.

" Not much," I answered honestly. " I asked him if he wanted to throw you out on your ass and he said we probably shouldn't."

Boba tried not to laugh, and I smiled and shoved his shoulder.

" What do you care anyway?" I asked, my cheeks burning a little in the dark. " You never would have come back here if you didn't have anywhere else to go that day."

He didn't argue with me. That was one thing I admired about Boba, throughout his life, with some resentment. He could be such a cold bastard, so selfish, so wrathful – but he didn't insult my intelligence by lying to me about the way he'd lived his life.

" I hated you when I left," he whispered instead. Thunder rolled closer outside – the rain came down harder, pounding the stone walls that surrounded us.

I shook my head, shut my eyes. I didn't want to talk about that day. Not ever. I felt Boba's hand on my cheek – not soft exactly, he wasn't capable of that anymore. But warm and firm - apologetic, maybe. Silent apologies were the only ones he'd ever offered me. Lightening flashed outside and I moved into his arms.

" Maybe you're right, maybe I wouldn't have come back," he said, resting his chin on top of my head. " But now that I have – I mean I think I forgot – I made myself forget . . .," he trailed off. " I'm glad I did," he admitted quietly.

" Wedge," I said, smiling. I understood what he was trying to say. I had heard it said, before I was a mother myself, that children were miracles. Remembering the hundreds of dour, lonely faces in the orphanage, I couldn't understand how that could be true. Children seemed like a burden, something unnecessary and left behind, like debris cast off from more important lives. But after having Wedge I understood the miracle, and I saw Boba understanding it, too. He had switched it off before, though, when he left, when revenge was all that mattered. Lying there in his arms, I wondered if it could happen again.

" I think I want him to be a pilot," Boba whispered into the dark. " Like us."

I smiled against his chest, thinking of myself as a pilot. I had been a decent one when I flew for the Republic, and I could probably do just fine if I had to fly through space again, but I wouldn't exactly define myself by the term. Still, I thought it flattering – maybe to Boba himself, since he'd taught me how to fly.

" I guess it's in his blood," I said, thinking of my father – and his. I swallowed heavily and moved my hand over the worst of Boba's wounds – the place on his side where a large shard of the detonator had struck him, between the plates of his armor. I laid my hand down on that sensitive place, a ghost of a touch – he still wore a thin bandage around it.

" What type of pilot do you want him to be, Boba?" I asked, keeping my hand there.

" Something respectable," Boba answered. I wasn't sure what that meant – I didn't know what Boba respected, but I had an idea, and it wasn't the sort of fly boy who got his paychecks from the Empire.

" I just want him to be safe," I said, letting out my breath and looking up at Boba. " I don't want him to join the Rebellion."

" Me either," Boba said. " It's foolishness. I was bringing them in –" he stopped himself.

" So the Empire hires bounty hunters to do their dirty work?" I asked.

" Only if they want the job done right," he said sharply.

I opened my mouth to ask him then about what he really wanted for Wedge's future, and maybe to tell him that I'd rather have my son flying against ten Imperial Cruisers than hunting bounties in the tradition of his father, but a giant clap of thunder silenced me. I gasped a little and Boba gave me a reassuring squeeze. I resented the protective posturing, and was set to tell him so when I heard the familiar sound of bare feet padding across the cave's floor.

I turned to see Wedge jogging toward us, a very frightened look on his face. I held out my arms and he dove onto the bed as lightening lit the sky outside.

" The storm woke me up," he mumbled, crawling under the covers between Boba and I. He looked nervously from me to his father, seeming a little embarrassed.

" Yeah, it's annoying," Boba said, sitting up on one arm.

" It'll be over by morning," I told Wedge, kissing the back of his head. " You know how it is during rainy season – we'll have sun tomorrow."

" Can we go swimming tomorrow?" Wedge asked, pulling the covers up to his chin.

" Sure," Boba said. " I can teach you how to dive."

" And do flips?" Wedge asked, grinning.

" No, sir," I said, smoothing his hair. " That's too dangerous."

" Aww, Mom," he whined, shutting his eyes.

" Flips are over-rated," Boba said, settling down onto his side. " Buncha flashy Jedi nonsense. They don't make any sense in a fight."

" Who's talking about fighting?" I asked, my eyes blazing. Boba and I looked at each other over the top of Wedge's head.

" You fought a Jedi?" Wedge asked, shooting up in bed and staring at his father with wide eyes. I brought my hand to my face and sighed. He was way too young to start being curious about Boba's career, wasn't he? I told myself that he would never know, but part of me knew that someday all his father's secrets would come to light, unless I kept Wedge alone in the cave forever.

" Maybe once or twice," Boba muttered, growing apprehensive himself. I had to wonder how eager he would be to tell his son what he did for a living.

" The Jedi are the fiercest enemies of the Republic!" Wedge said, looking at his reclining father with awe, suddenly wide awake.

" Quit quoting the holovid," I said, thinking of Mace, who had, ironically, given us the device that brought the very biased galactic news to our isolated home on static-riddled channels.

" The Jedi are gone," Boba said confidently. " The universe evolved without them."

Wedge opened his mouth, undoubtedly to question his father's ambiguous statement, but thankfully a giant vein of lightening that split the sky outside and its accompanying boom of thunder stopped him. He ducked down as if to hide from the storm, and clung to Boba's arm.

" It's alright," Boba told him as the thunder receded. Wedge curled against him and Boba put an arm around him, glancing at me as if to ask if he was doing it right. I smiled and wrapped an arm around both of them, scooting forward to sandwich shivering little Wedge between us.

" It's close now," Wedge murmured into Boba's shirt.

" It'll be gone soon," I promised him. As I said this I looked up at Boba. Our eyes met and I saw that he knew what I was thinking. Gone soon. If I had to pick two words to completely represent Boba in my life, those would do well.

But as Wedge fell asleep between us, the storm rolling away outside, I felt deceptively safe, temporarily satisfied. Boba and I looked at each other in the darkness and communicated without speaking: at least in that moment we could give Wedge what neither of us had ever had. Two parents to hold him, keep him safe, and tell him, guiltily, but knowing that they were better for the lie, that everything would be alright.

* * *

The morning after the storm I was more determined than ever to find out what Boba wanted for our son – what he wanted him to know about his own life, and what he wanted him to become. I wasn't relying on his desires to decide how to handle those things myself, but I was curious to find out if we would be partners in protecting him, or if I would be battling to preserve his innocence alone.

I woke up at the usual time – before Boba but after Wedge. I went into the kitchen and kissed Wedge on the forehead – he was sitting at the table flipping through a book of maps Boba had brought out from his ship. It was interactive, and holographic planets were twirling over the pages.

" Look Mom, Corinth," he said, pointing to one of our moons. " Isn't that where you were born?"

" That's right," I said, peeling naru fruit for juicing.

" What was your house like?" he asked, looking around the cave. " Was it like this?"

" No," I said, tensing a little. I'd never really told Wedge much about my childhood – he'd never been curious before. " It wasn't like this – it was big, and – boring."

" Boring?" Wedge said, looking at me.

" Well, architecturally," I muttered, squeezing the ripe fruit into a pitcher. " And otherwise, until your father showed up."

" You knew Dad when you were little?" Wedge asked, grinning with amusement at the idea.

" Yep," I said. " We lived in an orphanage."

" Orphanage?" he repeated, poking the hologram of Corinth and making the image stutter and realign.

" It's a place for children who don't have parents," I said, my ears buzzing. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't comfortable with Wedge knowing that Boba and I had been orphans. He deserved to hear the truth, of course – but it led to other avenues, places I didn't think he was ready to go yet.

" Why didn't you have parents?" he asked with alarm.

" My parents died before I was born," I said tightly. " Well, just as I was born, in my mother's case. And Dad's father – he died, too."

Wedge was quiet for a moment.

" What about his Mom?" he asked carefully, shutting the book and glancing back at the bed, where Boba was still asleep.

" I don't know," I said quickly, not wanting to admit that his father might well be a clone. Part of me had always rejected the suggestion – the clones were a tool of the army, thoughtless machines in white armor who motored into battle like droids. There was no way Boba could be cut from the same mold.

Fortunately, this line of questioning was broken by Boba stirring and sitting up in bed. He looked out of the cave's entrance and blinked in the sun.

" Where did the rain go?" he mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, yawning.

" It's strange," I said with a shrug. " That's the way the weather behaves this time of year. Terrible storms at night, clear skies during the day."

" Bizarre planet," Boba mumbled, reaching for the pitcher of juice and drinking from it. I scowled at him for being rude and he misunderstood my irritation, offering me the pitcher to drink from.

" How many planets have you been on, Dad?" Wedge asked from the table, reopening the book.

" Lots," Boba said. " At least twenty by the time I was your age."

" Wow, how come?" Wedge asked as Boba sat down beside him. I looked at Boba, and though he didn't meet my eyes I could feel him registering my discomfort.

" My Dad traveled a lot," Boba told him curtly. " For business."

" Do you travel a lot?" Wedge asked timidly, his eyes dropping back to the book. "Is that why you were gone?"

" Yeah," Boba said, looking away from him.

I waited for Wedge to ask him if he'd leave again, praying that he wouldn't. I didn't want to think about what Boba's answer might be, how he would handle facing the disappointment he'd put me through when it was his son who was missing him, wanting him to stay.

But neither of them spoke. I placed warm pastries down in front of them and they both ate quietly.

" So you'd better study those maps carefully if you're going to start school soon," I blurted out, looking to Wedge. It wasn't the ideal time to broach the sensitive subject of his education, but the silence was making me uncomfortable, and I couldn't bear holding off the question any longer.

" Where will I go to school?" Wedge asked. " With the Geonosians?"

" No, no," I said, waving off the concerned look on his face. " We'll send you to a school on a planet where you won't be the only human in your class. Maybe Corasaunt."

" No," Boba said sharply, making my heart stop for a moment. He looked up at me. " Corasaunt's too dangerous," he muttered before dropping his eyes back to his plate.

I felt something like relief, but I still wasn't sure if he was agreeing to send Wedge away to school. I decided to pursue the topic later, outside of our son's earshot, as I knew it wasn't fair – if Boba started advertising zipping around the galaxy and capturing bad guys as a potential alternative, I knew Wedge would jump at the suggestion, and it wasn't right to include someone so young and clueless in the decision, even if it was his future on the line.

" Will I have to leave the cave if I go to school?" Wedge asked, picking the dried yucca fruit out of the filling of his pastry.

" Of course," I said.

" Don't you want to?" Boba asked.

" Kind of," Wedge muttered. " I mean, I used to. But I dunno. It's not so bad."

Boba and I looked at each other – he meant that it was more fun since his father had arrived to entertain him. I couldn't help but think that Boba looked a little proud of himself. I tried not to shrink in my seat – sure, I had provided six years of stable, loving care-giving, but what was that in the face of Boba's grumpy and mysterious presence? By then I was somewhat used to it – everyone I'd ever encountered had either hero-worshipped Boba or hated him ferociously, and I did prefer that Wedge ignored his less desirable traits, instead of scrutinizing them.

That afternoon, as I continued to try and repair speeder's broken ignition and while Wedge watched a Wookie cooking show broadcast from who knows where on the holovid, Boba disappeared into his ship. Much as I told it not to, that I'd warned it again and again, my heart sank. He was readying himself to leave already? But how could he – how could Wedge and I be so quietly happy to have him here if he was miserable and looking to go?

But when Boba emerged from the cockpit of Slave 1 he wasn't wearing his father's armor or plotting a course for take off – he was carrying an armload of books.

" Turn that thing off and c'mere," he called to Wedge, who obediently flicked off the holovid. I wiped a smear of oil off my cheek and scoffed – if I told Wedge to turn off the holovid he usually acted like he'd suddenly gone deaf.

I watched Wedge walk over to the bed and sort through the books Boba had dumped there. Boba sat down and opened one, and showed it to him.

" See," he said. " This lists all of the species in the galaxy."

" All of them?" Wedge asked, leaning over to get a better look.

" Well, all of the known species," Boba said.

" What do those black marks mean?" Wedge asked. Boba flipped the page.

" Never mind those," he muttered.

" What's that?" Wedge asked, pointing to something on the page Boba turned to.

" That's a Twi'lek," Boba said. " They're pretty decent. Saved your mother's life and all. Probably yours, too."

" They did!" Wedge exclaimed, looking to me as if to ask why I'd never told him stories like this.

" Yes, I have a friend who's a Twi'lek princess," I said casually, trying to appear as cool and world-weary as Boba. " She came here when I was giving birth to you, and her friends – Twi'lek healers – helped bring you into the world."

" Whoa!" Wedge said, staring at the picture.

" I was here, too," Boba said. " When you were born, I mean."

" You were?" Wedge said, looking up at him. " I don't remember."

" Well, do you remember the Twi'leks?" Boba asked testily.

" No," Wedge said with a sigh. " I wish I did."

" You can see plenty of them when you go off to school," Boba said, and my ears perked up. " But you better study these books for awhile first. Memorize the planets and the species, and knowing something about ship maintenance couldn't hurt, either," he added, placing a thin craft manual into Wedge's hands.

" You get to fly ships in school?" Wedge asked, running his hand over the manual's smooth cover. I stood at my speeder, staring at Boba.

" When you're older," he said. " First you have to learn all about how they work, and how to take care of them."

" Is that how you learned to fly?" Wedge asked, looking up at him.

Boba was quiet for a moment. I held my breath. I knew there were some things he would object to about the Imperial school system, knew that part of him must have wanted very badly to train someone to follow in his footsteps like his father had. I just prayed that he would be selfless enough not to put Wedge through the same premature paces.

" Yeah," Boba muttered, not looking at Wedge. " That's how I learned to fly."

I let out my breath. All it would have taken was Boba telling Wedge that his father had taught him to fly, and the interest in school would have evaporated. I looked at Boba and tried to communicate my thanks silently. I knew he hated lying. But I liked to think that he hated the idea that his son might go through the same pain he'd faced as a child more than the notion of being dishonest with him.

For the rest of the day, Wedge would not stop talking about school. He was excited about it, though once in awhile he expressed anxiety over the fact that he would have to leave the cave, and live apart from his parents. I knew it would the hardest thing I'd ever have to do, leaving him at school, but that it was the best opportunity for him to someday get a job inside the law.

" Can I still talk to you everyday?" Wedge asked, looking up at me as we walked to the lagoon late in the afternoon, the sun starting to sink and the heat easing up a little.

" We can talk on the holocom," I offered, my heart breaking. Wedge looked at Boba.

" Relax," Boba said, putting his hands in his pockets. " You've still got awhile before school starts. By the time you turn seven you'll be sick of us."

" No I won't," Wedge insisted, giving his father a toothy grin and yanking on his pant leg. Unable to stop himself, Boba smiled down at him, and then scooped him up in his arms.

" But I wanted to splash in the puddles," Wedge whined, smiling despite himself and wrapping his arms around Boba's neck.

" Well, you're annoying your mother," Boba said, glancing at me. I raised an eyebrow – how quickly I'd become the bad guy, and Boba the fun parent. I suppose it was best that way, though – I didn't want to know what Boba would be like as a disciplinarian.

While Boba and Wedge raced each other in the lagoon – Boba nearly letting Wedge win each time, but not quite – I dozed by the water's edge, lying on Boba's discarded shirt and soaking up the last of the sun's rays as the sky began to take on an orange glow. I had gotten what I wanted: Boba's blessing for Wedge's education, a sign that we were on the same side when it came to what he wanted his life to be like. But I still felt vaguely unsettled – now that our son's future was neatly planned I had the daunting task of considering my own. For the past six years I hadn't had time to even question my singular role as a mother – we'd scraped by on the last of my credits, and it had taken up a lot of my energy in the past two years. Now, for the first time since I was a teenager, I had the luxury of thinking about what I might do with my life, and it was a bit terrifying.

I wanted to thank Boba for considering what was best for Wedge, for backing me up on the subject of school, and for dumping books in his lap to help him get prepared and enthusiastic. More than that I wanted to know exactly what he was thinking – did he lament having to discontinue the legacy Jango had begun, or was he so regretful of the way he'd spent his life that he wouldn't wish the reckless wandering on anyone, least of all our child? I was dying to know what he was going through – I could have asked him a hundred questions, a thousand, but I knew he wouldn't answer any of them, save for cryptic statements and grunts. Still, I decided to try and get him alone that evening, to at least express my gratitude for his participation in my scheme to give our son a safe and normal life.

Later that night, after Wedge had his bath and was put to bed, I busied myself in the kitchen, trying to work up the nerve to go and talk to Boba. He had walked back to the pool that we took turns bathing in each night: Wedge first, then Boba, then me. I had thought about joining him – once or twice he'd given me his bedroom eyes as he was heading back there – but there was still a wall between us.

We seemed to avoid each other physically until the sun had fallen, when we crawled beneath the covers of our bed and slid together like magnets, holding each other out of habitual comfort more than anything else. We had done nothing more since he'd returned – with Wedge asleep close by and only hanging sheets as "walls" for his room, we didn't really feel comfortable. And we didn't feel comfortable with each other, either. Despite everything in our past, it had been a long five years. We were both changed, more guarded now.

But I was longing for him, to my own annoyance and embarrassment. It had been so long since I'd even been within ten feet of a human man, and none had ever pulled at me like Boba did. I was thankful for Wedge's presence – I knew that, had it not been for his prying eyes, I would have thrown myself at Boba by then. And that wasn't what I wanted – not what the rational part of me wanted, anyway.

I finished drying our dishes, something I normally didn't bother to do, and took a deep breath. I told myself I wasn't going to seduce him, I was just going back to thank him for what he'd done for Wedge that day, and to talk to him a little bit in private, which we rarely got a chance to do. There was our late-night whispering in bed, but I tried to steer clear of sensitive subjects when we were pressed nose-to-nose, sharing a pillow. I had too many good memories of that bed to taint it with hushed bickering.

I thought about those quiet conversations while I walked back to the pool, my bare feet stinging against the cold stone as I moved deeper into the cave. My pointless nighttime talks with Boba were doing a rather good job of keeping me sane – we usually talked about our good memories of growing up together, or about places we'd been without the other, or places on Corasaunt we'd visited seperately, laughing over the things we both remembered, though we had experienced them apart from each other. Our favorite topic of conversation was Wedge – I would tell Boba about all the little things he'd missed, and he would answer my stories by telling me about himself when he was Wedge's age. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his boyhood misadventures on Kamino. I would never understand his perception of his childhood-in-training as idyllic; I could only smile at his satisfaction with it and be thankful that he didn't want a repeat performance with Wedge.

As I came into the bath area, the darkness of the inner cave lit by the candles we kept placed around it, I saw Boba sitting in the center of the pool, his head tipped back onto the smooth rocks, his eyes shut. For a moment I thought he hadn't heard me come in, but when he spoke first I remembered his hunter's reflexes, how he'd once told me that never really slept, that his eyes were never really shut.

" I'm almost done," he said, lifting his head a little and looking at me. I was glad for the darkness; I felt my body flush.

" It's alright," I said, with a wave of my hand. " Take your time."

" Is Wedge asleep?" he asked as I sat down at the edge of the pool, putting my feet in the water.

" Yes," I said. " Listen, Boba, I wanted to thank you – for what you did today."

" What did I do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

" For – not telling him how you really learned to fly," I said, selecting the most significant moment. " For supporting my decision to send him to school."

" Your decision?" Boba said, facing me. I turned my cheek, tried to bite away a guilty grin - my eyes were adjusting to the dim light. " That's always what I wanted for him. Remember?" he asked, unembarrassed.

" Right, I know," I muttered, looking into my lap. " I just wasn't sure – I hoped you hadn't changed your mind, after you got a taste of the father-son routine."

He slid a wet hand around my left ankle and gave it a little squeeze. I bit away my grin.

" How do you stay so pale, living here?" he asked, running a hand up my calf. I shivered – the cave was cold, the water was cold, his touch was giving me goosebumps – I wanted to lean down and cling to him.

" I wear long skirts," I said, folding my arms tightly over my chest. " I'm a mother now – I don't run around in mini-slips anymore."

" You never really did," Boba said, grinning at me. " It's weird for me to think of you as a mother, though. You were my teenage fantasy."

" Oh, that's a lot of bantha crap," I said, laughing. " You didn't have fantasies about girls back then. You dreamed about blasters and ships."

" Well, yeah," Boba said, sitting back and looking a little offended. " But other things, too."

" That surprises me," I said, shaking my head. " It always seemed to me that you just found the human parts of life to be a burden, that the less you had to think about them, the better."

" Thinking about them is overrated," Boba said, looking at me. " Actually doing them is pretty worthwhile, though."

I burst into laughter at this.

" How in the world did you get your reputation?" I asked, doubling over. " You're about as smooth as a gnarly old Wookie."

" Who says I'm trying to be smooth?" he demanded, splashing my legs.

" I know when you're trying to be smooth," I said, still giggling.

" The reputation came with the suit," he admitted, his shoulders slumping a little. " My dad didn't really have time for women, but they were always – interested. I guess he was mysterious and deadly, and they were into that."

" They thought they could unlock the mystery and that he'd protect them in turn," I said, familiar enough with the phenomenon.

" I guess," Boba said.

" Well, give yourself a little credit," I said. " You're your own person. I'm sure I'm not the only sucker who fell for Boba, not the second coming of Jango."

" You're not a sucker," Boba said after a pause, reaching for my leg again.

" Sure I am," I said with a sigh. " But that's okay. I'm resigned to it. Look at me, I should have learned my lesson by now. But here I am."

" What lesson?" Boba asked quietly, his hand dropping away. " That I'm good for nothing?"

" Quit feeling sorry for yourself," I said, rolling my eyes. " You know what I mean."

" No, I don't," he said sharply, looking up at me.

" The lesson to keep my distance, I guess," I said with a scoff, a little embarrassed now. " Not that you could manage to surprise me again by leaving. I guess I know what I'm getting into at last."

Boba looked up at me with a blank stare, as if this was completely off the wall, as if he'd been a perfectly wonderful partner all along.

" I never wanted to leave you," he said. " Even last time."

" Never mind what you _wanted_," I muttered, not wanting to go down this road, but unable to stop myself. " There was always something more important."

" Hey, stop," he said, and I gladly relented. I looked down at him, and he gave me what I willfully interpreted as an apologetic look. " C'mere," he said, holding out his arms.

" What do you mean, 'c'mere'?" I asked with a forced laugh, reaching down and splashing him, steady in my place though I wanted to crumple against him.

" What could I mean?" he asked sardonically. " Come. Here."

" No!" I said. " I – I didn't come back here to – to . . .," I trailed off, my eyes scanning his body and then jerking away. " I came back to talk about what you did – for Wedge – and you changed the subject."

" Well, I want him to go to school like a normal kid," Boba said with an enormous sigh. " You're happy, I'm happy – what more is there to say?"

" I don't know!" I said. " I guess I'm just curious – about how easy the decision was for you. I mean, about why you think this is best for him."

" Well, isn't it?" Boba asked, getting angry.

" Yes!" I said.

" Then I came to that decision for the same reasons you did." He narrowed his eyes. " I know what you really came back here for. You want me to admit that I don't want to train him. You want me to tell you that the way my father brought me up was wrong, that I regret everything –"

" Well, don't you?" I asked in a harsh whisper. I wished I could take it back after I said it. I knew his wounds were still too fresh to stand up to probing from the stinging question of regret.

" No, okay?" he said, glaring at me. " I don't regret it. I enjoyed it. It was thrilling. Fulfilling, even."

" But you don't want to put Wedge through the same ordeal," I said, unable to stop myself. " So there must be something—"

" Enough, Calli," Boba hissed. I could tell that he wanted to shout, but was keeping his voice low so that Wedge wouldn't wake. " You know what I regret about my life, what I hate about it."

" No, I don't," I said, backing down, genuinely curious now.

" Look," he said, glancing away, running a wet hand through his hair. " I like being alone. I like peace and quiet. I like figuring things out on my own, making all my own decisions. But at the end of the day – I don't know. I'd end up thinking of our bed here. And if I'd even be able to recognize my son if I saw him in a crowd. And if you'd chuck me out on my ass if I ever showed my face again."

" So you've missed us," I filled in. I wasn't entirely surprised, save for the fact that he was admitting it.

" I want Wedge to be able protect the people he cares about without having to abandon them," Boba muttered, looking down at the water.

" You don't have to abandon us, Boba," I said, reaching over to smooth his damp hair. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the pool with him. I shrieked a little as I fell into the cold water, and he pulled me into his lap and put a hand over my mouth.

" Shh," he whispered, giving me a wicked grin.

" Dammit, Boba," I whispered back, smacking his shoulders and glaring at him. " Quit changing the subject."  
" Fine," he said, drawing me closer. " I guess in a way, I never really did. Abandon you. If anything had happened to you I would have known. I would have come to help you."

" Oh, how?" I asked, rolling my eyes and putting my hands on his shoulders. " And what danger would we be in, anyway? Aside from the debt we're spiraling into."

" I'll help you with money, and pay for his school," Boba said quickly. " And you're right, you wouldn't be in any danger, typically. But when I'm here, you are."  
" I'll believe that when I see it," I said, tired of him using his paranoia as an excuse to leave us.

" Don't say that," he said, his grip on my waist tightening.

" No one could hurt us if you're here," I reminded him. " You'd fight for us. And win."

" Then I'm not weak?" Boba asked darkly. I frowned.

" What? Of course—"

" You told me I was," he said tightly. " When I left."

I swallowed heavily, remembering that day, the sandstorm, all the things said that I'd tried to forget.

" I was only trying to hurt you," I whispered. The fact that he'd remembered those words, that he'd thrown them back in my face after five years, told me that I hadn't missed my mark.

Tired of the conversation, as it was backing him into a corner, Boba chose his usual method of ending it. He kissed me, and I melted into him, gave in, let my rational mind deteriorate. I flung my wet clothes off and heard them land with a splatter on the floor of the cave. Then, when we fell together at last, all I could hear was a string of '_I missed you, I missed you_.' Maybe it was him speaking, maybe it was me – I couldn't know, I was too lost in him. The cool water and the sharp scent of the cave disappeared, and Boba was all I could smell, touch, feel, taste – logical thought was out of the question. Maybe neither of us spoke at all, maybe it was just a stream winding its way through our minds, stronger than sound – _I missed you, I missed, I _missed_ you_.


End file.
